Ellethmilumel
by griZzlyAngel
Summary: She was older than the sun, as wise and graceful as any elf, and fickle as the wind. The one thing lacking about her was a true understanding of those she was charged with watching over, until one day when she is summoned by the wizard Gandalf to join a rather odd company. It is with this company that she learns the real nature of life, love and loss. 10th Walker story.
1. The Incarnation of Drnugrl

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Lord of the Rings' trilogy. That is the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien

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_"Life stands before me like an eternal spring with new and brilliant clothes."_

-Carl Friedrich Gauss

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Chapter I: The Incarnation of Drnugrl

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Night had finally come to the ethereal dale of Imladris, or Rivendell in the common tongue, and it was well that it did, for the day had been long and trying for those who were presently finding respite there. Among them was one known as Mithrandir, though you may know him better by the title Gandalf. Being a wizard, and arguably the busiest of all wizards, Gandalf was all but spent from the day and many days prior. One would think that exhaustion would have certainly overtaken him by now; however, the Grey Wizard was currently far from a decent slumber.

At the moment he was sauntering along a narrow path that ran adjacent to the River Bruinen, just outside the borders of Rivendell, heading Southward. It was fortunate the night was clear and quite mild, with a gentle Western breeze that caused the wizard's long beard to waver and the branches of the stooping elm trees that flanked his left side to creak and rustle. On his right ran the river, its cool waters splashing and slushing softly in the otherwise quiet night. Now, you may be wondering why he was walking about in the darkness, wearied and alone, when he ought to be snug in a warm elven bed, resting and recovering himself just as his companions were. Suffice it to say, the old wizard had very good reason.

Nearly a league or so from the Valley to down along the riverside, Gandalf eventually came to slow his pace and turn towards the Bruinen, stepping quietly through the tall, smooth grass that grew there, his staff in hand, its thuds muffled by the damp earth. He approached the sloping bank of the river and it was here that he stopped. His old yet sharp eyes roved from left to right, surveying the steady flow of the water, the light of the full moon overhead reflecting in the swells of it. It seemed from this tranquil place that there was no impending darkness unfurling from the East; that the world was safe and unmoving. It was deceiving and dismal to the wizard, who knew that such things could no longer be just. The world was swiftly reshaping, though for good or evil still remained uncertain. With The One Ring in the possession of a hobbit there was hope to be had for the world of men yet.

A strong gust of wind hit Gandalf suddenly from across the river, stirring his beard and mane, billowing his grey robes and quite nearly sweeping him off his feet. He steadied himself, grasping his wooden staff in both hands. His ears perked as the rustling of the leaves and grass became whispers, speaking his name, wondering of his presence there. A faint smile crept upon his lips. He had indeed come to the right spot at the precise time. Now it was just a matter of coaxing her...

"Sister Drnugrl, why do you marvel at me so?" he spoke to no one directly, still facing the river. "Do you not recognize your brother?"

There was a long, pondering pause and Gandalf began to think perhaps she had drifted elsewhere. Again the powerful wind blew from nowhere, harassing the elms and lying the grass flat at the wizard's feet, though he himself was not bothered. Rather, it felt as if someone had graced him with an embrace, but was quickly swept away in an instant. Gandalf watched in awe as the Great Wind struck the water of the Bruinen, bringing it upward into a twirling spout, then without warning it ceased and returned to its original state.

Gandalf's smile grew somewhat sad and he drew a long, slow sigh.

"Yes, I have missed you as well, Dear Drnugrl," said he, casting his gaze upon the opposite bank. "My work has increased tenfold since last I visited you and I'm afraid that it will only continue to do so, especially in these times.

"I assume that you have heard tell of the rising power in the East? He is ever strengthening, the Dark Lord, and he means to find what was once lost to him. He knows it has been found now, as I'm sure that you do also: The One. I will not say where it lies, for even in this serene location spies of our enemy may be lending ears.

"You wonder why I am here and so I will tell you. I have come seeking your aid, dear sister. Your time has come to join me. I can no longer battle the darkness alone, now that our brother, Curumo, has betrayed us. I need you, but more importantly our Fellowship needs you. The road ahead is a haze, but I know it will not fare without effort. You must reform yourself and take to flesh. The time has now come, Drnugrl."

The Great Wind started back to him from over the river, sweeping up a marvelous torrent as it did so, passing over and around Gandalf, circling him like some sort of miniature cyclone. It left him, but enveloped the immediate wood, violently tossing the elms about, sending chunks of earth airborne. The wizard, as awestruck as he was, had to shield his face with his cloak, for the spinning gale was tossing dirt, branches, stones and other natural objects every which way in a wild fashion to the point it was rather dangerous to stand in the vicinity.

Eventually the wind died down and only the slight breeze and running of the water could be heard once more. Gandalf lowered his arm that he held his cloak up with, his blue eyes blinking rapidly.

In the shadow of the looming elm trees stood the slender figure of a woman. Gandalf could sense her wariness and uncertainty as she hovered there, so he called to her gently.

"Drnugrl, do not be afraid. Come forth into the moonlight."

To his surprise there came a swift answer from a velvety, almost inaudible voice.

"I am not afraid, Olorin. I am just unaccustomed to this form. It is... _tight."_

"I would have to agree!" laughed Gandalf. "No doubt it will take some getting used to, but I think in time you will find it to be less tight and more secure."

"Are they not one in the same?" was Drnugrl's soft retort, her shaded figure gliding forward away from the trees.

"Not quite." said Gandalf, watching as his sibling stepped into the pool of silver moonlight that shone down upon the path between the trees.

Naked and lithe she stood, her ashen skin seeming to reflect the light of the moon, her snow white mane cascading down around her shoulders in glistening ripples that fell to the small of her back. Drnugrl, keeper of the innocent and friend to the mother, now encased within a delicate human form. She was a remarkable sight to behold in all her purity and grace.

"I join you now, Olorin, my beloved brother. What needs are to be met? Where is this fellowship you speak of?" said she, her voice still soft, but her tone strong and unwavering.

"Needs will be met in due time. The Fellowship rests now in the valley of Imladris. You shall meet them in the morn, after you have been permitted by Lord Elrond. In the meantime, I think it best if we found you some suitable attire so that you may clothe yourself. You'll soon discover that this particular form is highly vulnerable and should be kept secret from others."

Together, brother and sister Maiar walked along the path beside the River Bruinen heading for Rivendell, speaking to each other in tongues that only they could comprehend, delighted to be in like company for a change.

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Author's Note: Hello to you all who have taken the time to read this. This is my first 'Rings' fiction, so be gentle with me. I consider myself a diehard fan of the Tolkien universe and hold a high regard for it, not only because it is so beautifully rendered, but because it actually has a special place in my heart for personal reasons. With that said, I will do my utmost best in the telling of this tale and I can only hope others will find it enjoyable. I am open to criticism, but please, no flames. I've done much studying on the lore of this series, but I may miss things from time to time, or even get something wrong. Please feel free to correct me and explain. If something is unclear to you, don't be afraid to ask me in a review or PM. In addition to Tolkien's lore, there will be some of my own mixed in here. Key word 'some'. This story will be long and detailed, for it will span the entire trilogy. Updates will vary. Though I may throw in a bit of bookverse in here, this story will be based for the most part on the Peter Jackson movies. That is all I have to say at the moment. Take care!


	2. Insufferable Hobbits

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Lord of the Rings'. I am just a fangirl who takes pleasure in Tolkien's works.

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_"The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance."_

_-_Alan Watts

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Chapter II: Insufferable Hobbits

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All was quiet in the peaceful valley of the elves when Gandalf returned with Drnugrl, who was padding close to his side, her wide eyes widening still as she took in the world with this newfangled point-of-view. Throughout all of her existence, Drnugrl had only ever dwelt near the River Bruinen, and had never once considered visiting elsewhere, even to Rivendell, which lay close to her home. She now wished she had. Although the hour was late, she could nonetheless sense the dreamlike serenity that seemed to penetrate and sedate the mind as she tread within the borders of the elven dale. Here the breeze had died down, though the air remained crisp and cool, and a delicate scent of some sort of unknown vegetation wafted through it. Far off Drnugrl could hear the dull roaring of multiple waterfalls, along with it a soothing symphony from a sundry of night creatures.

As Gandalf led her along a stone pathway that gradually ascended towards a grand house upon a slope against the valley's far wall, he quietly instructed the female maia.

"We will not wake Lord Elrond at this time, so your induction to the Fellowship must wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid. In the meantime, I will call upon one of his servants and perhaps find you something suitable to wear."

He came to a stop when they reached the foot of a flight of stairs that arched upward to the entry door of the house and Drnugrl mimicked his motion, halting next to him. Gandalf turned to her, his gaze thoughtful.

"I think it best that you go conceal yourself in the gardens over yonder until I have obtained your outfit. I don't believe anyone would still be awake at this time, but just for extra precaution."

Drnugrl gave a nod in assent, pivoting and gliding away from the wizard in the indicated direction, swift and silent like a passing shadow beneath the moon.

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"You know, Merry, I don't think I have ever actually been full from a meal before. Not even at our holiday feasts did I feel so content as I do now. It's a bit... unsettling."

Away back in the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond, in a spacious and warm chamber, there were two hobbits that had not found sleep as of yet. The one named Merry emerged from the lavatory that was attached to the room, stretching his arms above his curly-haired head, yawning widely.

"I concur." said he, scratching the back of his neck and striding over to his bed with purpose.

"You think breakfast will be just as spectacular?" the first hobbit wondered, sitting atop his own bed, cross-legged, resting his chin in his cupped hands.

Merry, who had climbed up into the bed and brought out his trusty pipe, was in the process of filling it with the little stash of weed he had left from back home in the Shire, shrugged his shoulders.

"I'd say it's almost a guarantee."

"I don't suppose they would know anything about second breakfast, or elevenses, or luncheon or afternoon tea either."

"I doubt it," said Merry, topping the weed off. "Perhaps this is the opportunity for you to teach those who are ignorant to our tasteful culture?"

This notion seemed to make the other hobbit perk up a bit, straightening so that his hands dropped into his lap and he was looking directly across at Merry, his green eyes alight.

"Yeah, you know I never thought about it, but these big people really would do well to know a little more about us hobbits!" said he enthusiastically.

Merry nodded, half-listening as he was mostly concentrating on igniting his pipe.

"Indeed, Pippin."

The hobbit, Pippin, was now energized with the prospect. He slid off his own bed, one of the two beds that were far too large for he and his companion, and strolled out onto the broad balcony that extended from the room, all the while the wheels in his head were turning.

From his languid position on the bed he occupied, Merry smirked at Pippin's back, taking a long drag from his polished pipe. It didn't take much to set a fire under the young Took and it was always a pleasure to witness once one had. And Merry was an expert at doing so. He knew his baby cousin like he did the back of his hand. Pippin may not have been a very wide hobbit, for he had quite a bit of filling out to do yet since he hadn't even reached adulthood, but that did not hide the fact he had a heated passion for food. More so than even Merry did himself, and that was saying something, because he was likewise a hobbit, and it is a well-known fact that all hobbits shared a love for food.

A few minutes had gone by in utter silence, which was a rarity in the presence of Pippin Took. Merry craned his neck to get a look at Pippin outside, noticing his cousin was watching something intently from the veranda of their chamber, leant so far over the baluster he feared that the younger hobbit would tumble right over it.

"What are you looking at, Pippin?" said he, tendrils of smoke expelling from his mouth and nostrils due to his most recent draw on the pipe.

The Took did not answer straight away. He was indeed engrossed in whatever he was witnessing below and it rather made Merry slightly curious.

"There's a naked lady down there in the garden, Merry." he finally came to respond in a hushed voice.

Merry choked on his pipe. "A _what?!"_

In an instant he was out of bed and had hastened from the room out to the balcony to join Pippin, almost throwing himself over the side in an effort to see the nude female. His eager features fell however, when he saw that there was no woman at all below them: just a fountain, a multitude of flora and what appeared to be a common housecat stalking around, probably in search for a tasty midnight snack. Merry heaved an aggravated sigh, straightening and throwing a scathing look at his cousin.

"Don't give me such a nasty look, Merry! She was _right there, _I swear!" insisted Pippin, pointing like mad at the supposed spot. "She had this long, white hair and-and pale skin-like-like the moon! In fact, I think she was sort of glowing like it-"

"Oh come off it, Pippin!" Merry snapped, punching the younger hobbit's shoulder roughly. "You've had your fun, now let's go to sleep! We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, don't forget." With that he turned and shuffled back into the connected bedroom, grumbling under his breath the whole way.

Pippin looked after him over his shoulder, rubbing at the spot where he'd been struck, his brow knotted in a mixture of confusion and vexation. Vexation at his cousin for being so grouchy and confusion about the woman he had seen. For he had indeed seen a woman, no doubt about it! And she was certainly not clothed. In the second he had blinked and Merry came zipping over, she had seemingly vanished into the cool air of the night. It was so bizarre...

A sudden yawn erupted from the young hobbit lad then.

"Merry's right, I need sleep. The road is sure to be long in the following days ahead." he hesitated before retreating from the baluster, sweeping one final glance down at the garden for the mystery woman.

Little did the hobbit know, as he was yawning and clambering into bed minutes later, that the woman he had seen was still in the garden, her glassy orbs fixated on the balcony overhead. Though not as easily done as in her former state of being, Drnugrl was able to find a suitable hiding spot amid a row of bushes that golden flowers bloomed from. She wondered, as she crouched there breathing in the gentle fragrance of the flowers, what sort of creatures had been watching her just seconds ago. They were most certainly not elves. Elves Drnugrl knew very well, for they often frequented her territory along the Bruinen. These creatures had a peculiar aura about them and their cadence was nothing short of alien to her. The first one had been observing her for some time before he alerted his kin, which startled the female. Though she did not know him, Drnugrl felt that the first creature had no ill intentions when it came to her. He was young, this she knew for certain, and exceptionally inquisitive-a trait that she admired and admittedly harbored herself. The second creature that was similar to the first did not exude so much of awe as he did hunger, and this spooked the woman-like being that presently hid in the thick hedge of flowers in the garden of Lord Elrond.

There was a sudden growing sound, like that of wood tapping upon stone, accompanied by the thuds of footfalls and rustle of clothing. Someone was steadily approaching the core of the sprawling gardens, coming up the stoneflagged path. The woman stiffened instinctively within her sanctuary.

"Drnugrl? Where are you?" it was Gandalf.

She relaxed in a moment, letting out the breath she had unknowingly been holding.

"Here." said she, creeping out of the bushes in a fashion akin to a deer, noiseless and nimble.

Gandalf stood a few feet from where she had laid hidden, a light bundle of material resting in the crook of his left arm. He noted her slightly ruffled air.

"Everything alright?" he inquired.

The pale woman shook her head and motioned up towards the veranda.

"Someone seen me. It was not an elf." said she.

The grey wizard lifted his line of sight to the place she had pointed, knowing in an instant who took temporary repose in that particular chamber. He sighed with weariness, shaking his head and murmuring to himself; Drnugrl watched him closely, blinking and tilting her head.

"I should have known they'd still be wide awake... insufferable young hobbits..."

"Who are they? And what are hobbits?" questioned Drnugrl, highly intrigued.

"The two who were spying on you were hobbits and they go by the names of Merry and Pippin. But don't worry over them tonight-you'll have plenty of time to get to know them tomorrow, along with the rest of the Company. For now, take these and cover yourself. Once you've done so, we will find you a spare room in the house for you to sleep."

As the wizard handed off the pile of clothing to the woman, she responded in barely a whisper to him.

"I do not sleep, Olorin."

Gandalf seemed oddly amused by this, a small glint in his old eyes. He set a firm hand on her right bare shoulder, taking note to how cold she felt beneath his spindly fingers; her flesh form had yet to collect warmth of experience. He looked into her eyes then. They were round and unblinking, holding an infinite depth within them. She was peering into him, wise yet innocent. She was the perfect paradox that blended ageless knowledge and infantile virtue.

"My dear sister, you will find that with your new state of being, sleep is a necessity. As is eating and drinking and other bodily functions. It will take time for you to adjust, I know; however, it is not so bad once you do. In fact, you may find some of the earthly qualities to be rather enjoyable from time to time."

Something told the Grey Wizard that his Maia sibling was not wholly convinced by his words, but she inclined her head and obeyed him just the same. With some aid from Gandalf, she managed to dress herself for the first time in her life and it goes without saying that it was truly the most strangest thing she had ever done. Gandalf had not gone for anything too complicated, just a simple elven nightgown of an almost sheer white material. It was enough for now, though tomorrow he would certainly arrange her a more practical ensemble for traveling.

"Well, what do you think?" said he.

"I think it is superfluous," said Drnugrl in displeasure, studying her reflection in a shallow pond some feet away. "Tell me again, Olorin, why such things are needed? To me, it would seem only to hamper any action that may be taken."

"It is not an easy concept to understand in the beginning, but in this materialistic environment that elves and men inhabit, baring particular parts of the body is... unbecoming." said Gandalf with care, ambling over to where she was.

Drnugrl was trying to comprehend the idea, her pallid features twisting and scrunching while she thought about it. She reached her hands up to first hold her head then sliding them down to grasp her neck then further descending to the delicate mounds that were her breasts then so and on and so forth, before eventually releasing a soft sigh.

"Never did I think this day would come..."

A pang struck Gandalf's heart to hear her sound so for forlorn. He knew very well what she was feeling in that moment: restrained, dim and a desire to remain as she once had been. But she will never be what she once was ever again. Her fate as one of the Maiar was predestined long ere the creation of Arda itself, as was his. Over the many years he had wandered the expanse and time of the wide world, Gandalf had quelled much of his wild spirit. Drnugrl, however, was just opening her eyes after the birth and her spirit was anything but tame. She would need more than some time to settle in to this unfamiliar world; unfortunately, there was no time to spare anymore. They would have to make due and she would learn as she went with him as her teacher and the Fellowship as her test. It would be difficult, but Gandalf had the utmost faith in her. She need only to meet the smallest of their party to discover her nature, for she was created to safeguard those that are innocent and lend strength to the weak.

"Nor did I," he took her hands in his. "You mustn't dwell on dreary thoughts. Let us go now and I will show you to your chamber. In regards to future days, rest is imperative. I strongly suggest you get yourself some tonight, dear Drnugrl, whilst we are still in safe borders."

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"Rise and shine, lads! Tis a glorious morning!" rang the melodious voice of Frodo Baggins as he practically burst through the entry to his cousins' chamber.

Merry started, sitting bolt upright in his bed, bleary-eyed and muzzy from deep sleep. Pippin, on the other hand, did not move a single muscle and went right on snoring lightly into his feather pillow.

"Frodo-? What?" said Merry in a scratchy voice.

"Up! Time to get up!" Frodo marched into the room, making a beeline for the curtains that had been drawn closed the evening preceding. "We've a long day ahead! You two ought to start preparing for it!"

By his jaunty and buoyant demeanor, one would never begin to suspect that they were all about to depart on a perilous journey; yet, who could not possibly be somewhat exuberant with the waking of a new day in such an immaculate place as was Rivendell? Following in his wake was Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's loyal friend and garderner. Unlike Frodo, Sam did not bound like a hyperactive hobbit child into the room; rather, he stepped in quietly and respectfully.

He watched from just inside the doorway as the elder hobbit yanked the evergreen drapes apart and bit back a chuckle when the radiant sunlight was unleashed upon the chamber and its occupants, eliciting a strangled hiss from Merry.

"I think you've blinded me!" cried Merry, burying himself under his covers.

Frodo rolled his blue eyes, walking up to the bed and ripping the blankets away from his cousin, causing Merry to object most vocally.

"Give me a chance to at least gather my bearings, you crazy old hobbit!"

"You can gather your bearings on your own time, Cousin. Right now, I ask that you get up out of bed and make yourself presentable. Gandalf says there is to be another meeting sometime this morning before we take leave." said Frodo, going to Pippin's bed next.

"Another meeting?" said Merry with patent distaste, rubbing at the crusties in his eyes. "Whatever in the world for? Have we not all the information we need?"

Frodo shook his head, pulling his youngest cousin's coverings back.

"He did not say explicitly, though he had hinted that there may be one more addition to our Fellowship. Come on now, Pippin, the sun has long since risen this morn."

Pippin groaned dramatically, kicking out his leg and hitting Frodo square in the chest, sending the older hobbit reeling backwards with a yelp.

Sam gasped and scurried forward. "Mr. Frodo!" he cried.

Merry was laughing his head off and Pippin, now fully awake, looked on at his Cousin Frodo with apprehension, knowing he'd just made a big mistake.

"That's what you get for being so bossy!" chided Merry, holding the stitches in his sides.

"Oh shut it!" snapped Frodo, readjusting his waistcoat, his face flushed pink. "You two, out of bed! Wash up, brush your hair and dress appropriately! I'll be waiting for you down in the courtyard."

And with that he left, Sam trailing behind him and shutting the door on the way out. There was a few straggling giggles that issued from Merry as he slipped off his bed and made for the lavatory, Pippin eying him and stretching.

"What's happening?" he asked through a yawn.

"We've another meeting today before we go. Apparently they're adding a new member to the Fellowship or something," Merry relayed the information provided by Frodo seconds ago. "You had better get ready, else our mad cousin will surely tan our hides."

Merry disappeared into the lavatory, leaving Pippin alone with his thoughts, which were buzzing like hundreds of bees in his head. They were adding another member to the party? Why was that? Who could it possibly be? They would not honestly do this just so they could discharge him from the Fellowship, would they? After all, Elrond had been pretty obstinate when it came to his objection of the hobbit partaking in this quest, as he considered Pippin too young. The thought of them doing such a thing infuriated the Took.

"Oh they had better not!" he spoke aloud to himself, hopping out of bed, bound and determined to go with his cousin Frodo. "They will regret it terribly if they attempt it. Even if I have to smuggle myself in one of their packs, I am going on this adventure!"

Because if there was one thing Pippin Took was an expert at, it was getting his way.


	3. Dreams Unto Reality

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Lord of the Rings'. That be the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just a dopey fangirl having fun with his wondrous world...

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_"Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."_

-George Bernard Shaw

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Chapter III: Dreams Unto Reality

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_Evening was swiftly descending into night, giving birth to shadow. It began at a crawl, first creeping forth from under leaves and behind rocks. Soon it grew, ever gaining speed. When the very last edge of light had been nudged away by the dark, the shadow unfurled at a rapid pace, devouring the rich, green land and tainting the waters. Insatiable was it, swallowing the moon whole along with every star that shone in the velvet black mass overhead that was the night sky..._

Drnugrl's eyes shot open. She was lying on her back, staring up at the arched ceiling of her chamber, her chest heaving with the breath she was trying to catch. The air was refreshing in her lungs, as if she had been suffocated for a long period of time; she put her right hand upon her chest and gripped at it. There, she felt it. It was subtle, but she could feel the smooth, steady beat of her heart. A heartbeat. A smile tugged at her lips. It was such a simple thing, but at the same time very much pivotal in the way of life as she understood it. It was strange having her own now. Her own spark of life within the grand scheme of things. It was both gratifying and humbling at once.

In and out she breathed, enjoying the sensation of the cool, clean air filtering inside her, energizing her, relieving her of the darkness that had invaded her thoughts in slumber. Never had she felt so alone, so fragile, so scared...

Her musing was interrupted quite suddenly when a light knock sounded on the opposing side of her bedroom's door, followed closely by a tinkling female voice.

"Is the Lady awake? I have dressings for thee."

"Come in." said Drnugrl, pushing herself into an upright position in the bed.

The door gradually swung open inward and there was a lovely elf-maid standing upon the threshold. Like a feather on the breeze, she swept gracefully into the chamber, her powder-blue dress fluttering along in her wake, barely making a rustle of noise. Drnugrl watched her with rapt attention, her chilling blue eyes capturing every fluid movement of the elf, entranced. For however many elves the Maia had known and met, she could still not help but be captivated by their ways and being. She felt a closeness with them, for they were a people with a passionate love of creation and she was the very essence of it.

The elf-maiden faced Drnugrl then, her large, brown eyes blinking in wonder-an expression not often worn by the ancient race.

Drnugrl gave her a cordial smile, catching sight of the bundle of clothing ladening the elf's slender arms.

"Those are mine?" guessed she, pointing at the clothes.

The elf-maid made a soft sound, something like a gasp, then nodded at her and went to set the bundle of clothing down on a nearby silver Ottoman.

"Thank you." said Drnugrl.

The elf-maid bowed her golden head respectfully to Drnugrl.

"You are welcome, Ellethmilumel."

Drnugrl's head snapped directly at the elf, but the comely maiden had already slipped out of the room and the door was shut tight once more, leaving the pale woman to her previous state of pondering. She considered sleep and how it had been to undergo it for the first time; it hadn't been exceptionally hard to do, for the moment her head had connected with the creamy-white feather pillow she had entered into a surreal world that was in some respects similar to that of her former life. She was within and without her being, everywhere and somewhere at the same time. It was overall a pleasing experience, aside from the night terror that had disrupted all the good images and feelings. Drnugrl shuddered; never before had she dealt with evil thoughts. It was troubling to her and her spirit felt a heavy weight that was foreign to her making. Was this what it was to live? To suck air and have a heartbeat? Did all who were carved in flesh bear a load of darkness on their soul? If it was so, Drnugrl could not believe in what Gandalf had told her; she could never grow used to such a wretched burden.

She looked then out the great window that spanned most of the far wall, opposite the door of the bedroom she stayed in, heaving a sad sigh. Beams of gold streamed in through the patterned glass of the window from the bright sun outside, shattering upon the smooth stone floor, and gilding the walls and other furnishings of the room. Drnugrl sniffed and slid from the bed, her bare, ashen feet hitting the cool, beige stone lightly. Those delicate feet carried her smoothly over to the window, where the sunlight could bathe her. She shut her eyes and leaned her head back, relishing the loving warmth that pierced her, filling her with a strength that abolished any remnants of shadow in her heart.

"Oh what a glory you are, dearest sister Arien..." the words spilled over her lips in a richness of tongue that was comparable to that of the elves, but far more rooted, like in the way the eldest tree of the forest stood amidst the saplings.

Eventually Drnugrl was satisfied with what she had absorbed from the sun and withdrew from the window, her spirit uplifted once again. She looked around at the neat pile of clothing that the elf-maid had delivered, picking it up, examining it with curious eyes and fingers. Whatever it was, Drnugrl thought it was very soft and light in hand. The material was of a dark blue color, like that of the night sky, with intricate stitchings of silver thread embellishing it in patterns of moons, stars and flowers. She guessed that her brother had hand-picked the outfit himself.

After a lengthy time of clothing herself in the new ensemble, Drnugrl walked over to the large, ornate mirror that stood off in the corner near her bed; she looked at the reflection, not sure if she was exactly content with what it held. Her own steely eyes rather startled her and she wondered at the colorless tresses that blanketed her shoulders, lifting one stray, wavy lock between her forefinger and thumb. It was cold and slick to the touch, like the waters of the Bruinen in the thaw of early Spring. Drnugrl let the strand of hair go, frowning at herself in the mirror. The door to the bedroom creaked as someone was opening it and Drnugrl whipped around.

Gandalf's sparkling blue eyes met hers, a smile tugging at his pinned lips. He entered the chamber, his staff missing from his grip and pointed hat from his head. In its stead he had an old, pinewood pipe, from which strings of smoke drifted upward.

"I see that you've gotten your traveling wear on. Good, good. Now all that you need is a decent pair of shoes."

Drnugrl peered down at her feet.

"They _are _starting to grow quite cold, now that you mention it." said she with a smirk.

"I do not doubt it!" laughed Gandalf. "Come now, Drnugrl, for Lord Elrond is awaiting us."

Rivendell was truly a whole different place in daylight, as Drnugrl noted. There was an otherworldy atmosphere that hung within the valley after nightfall; with the sun came a new energy. It was alive with the hum of its gay residents, singing songs in crystalline voices that matched that of the most accomplished songbirds; others swept back and forth along the varying pathways and corridors that made up the expanse of Lord Elrond's home, speaking to one another in their delightful tongue; and some, like the elf-maiden from earlier, tended to the house and surrounding gardens, their breezy laughter arousing Drnugrl's wild soul so that she was sorely tempted to leave her brother and go racing off through the woods of the valley at any given chance.

The house of Lord Elrond was absolutely stunning or so Drnugrl thought. She did not, after all, have much of an eye for architecture, having spent all her existence among the grass, trees, waters and other wild things of the outlying lands. For being the first house she had ever stayed in though, she considered it beautiful, mostly due in part to its connection with the natural world that seemed to find ways of flourishing both on the outside and inside of it. The entire place exhibited a life of its own; old, knowledgable and keeping a dense history behind its walls that Drnugrl would not mind learning of one day, for she had little doubt it was an interesting one.

Finally, after a fair stretch of walking that led them up an elegant spiral staircase, the Maiar brother and sister came to a halt before two grand doors made of sleek chestnut and knobs of brass.

"Let me go in front of you and make him aware." said Gandalf.

Drnugrl nodded and watched as the wizard opened the left door and slipped inside. She was kept no more than a minute and the door popped open again, revealing Gandalf's weathered face.

"You may come in, Drnugrl."

He pulled the door wide for her and Drnugrl glided in. This chamber was by far the largest she'd seen yet; spacious and tall, with desks laden with parchments and maps, plush chairs scattered about, flowing tapestries and bookcases lining much of the walls. Attached to the room was a broad veranda, on which stood who Drnugrl could only assume was the Lord of this magnificent home himself. His back was towards she and Gandalf, but he was quickly turned around to face them. Drnugrl stayed her feet, stopping midway in the room, her sights collected on the dark-haired elf who was steadily making his way over.

When he had at last come to stand before her, Drnugrl could see that his brow had risen to his hairline and his lips parted a sliver. There was patent recognition in his eyes.

"Ellethmilumel?" said Lord Elrond in awe.

Drnugrl gave a nod of her ivory head, a grace of a smile forming on her pale lips. The elven lord was astonished and his gaze shot to Gandalf then.

"What is the meaning of this?" said he almost breathlessly.

"The meaning, Lord Elrond, is simply that I need help-and it is not the sort of help that can come from elves or men." said Gandalf.

Elrond looked utterly bemused by the grey wizard's words. Drnugrl took those few moments to appraise the elf she had known for years past forgotten. He had not come to visit her in a long time, which had saddened the Maia, for of all the elves who spoke to her, he was the one she favored most. Well, he and his children. Especially the daughter, Arwen. She was always coming to the river to sing and play and tell stories to Drnugrl.

"So you would call upon the blessed Spirit of the Bruinen, Ellethmilumel?" said Elrond in amazement, now looking at the pale woman once more. "And you assented?" he addressed her, though he'd corrected his tone so that it was much more gentle and reserved.

"Does that bother you, dear Elrond?" queried Drnugrl softly.

She held his gaze for a moment and he looked pained with confusion, hesitating as he came to speak. "It concerns me, yes." He ripped his eyes away from hers and returned them to Gandalf.

"I think it would be wise for you to give me reasonable explanation for this unprecedented event, Gandalf."

"Of course." said Gandalf lightly, striding past Drnugrl to follow Lord Elrond back out onto the veranda.

"Do excuse us, Ellethmilumel. It will only be a minute." said Elrond with respect, as if he were talking to a distinguished queen, one who is held in the highest of honor.

The elf and wizard left Drnugrl to explore the vast chamber on her own, retreating to the balcony. The veranda was wide and long, spotted with a number of seats, lounges, tables and potted plants. From here there was a full view of the majestic valley of Imladris and the sun had set to it a glittering glaze. Elrond strolled up to the edge of it, placing his hands atop the carved stone baluster.

"Why does her presence disturb you, Master Elrond?" asked Gandalf, standing at his right.

The elven lord looked at the Istari beside him, his brow bowed dangerously low.

"She has laid in secrecy for tens of ages. No one, not even Sauron knew of her whereabouts. She has aided my kin and kept the evil beyond these borders at bay. She is my good friend, Gandalf, and now you've come to bear her away. It seems that nothing is sacred anymore..."

Gandalf's old eyes widened in surprise. "You are angry with me?"

"No, I am distressed." said Elrond, his tone crisp.

"I understand that you care much about her, Lord Elrond, but we are all destined for something and Ellethmilumel is no different. She has done wonderfully in keeping safe Rivendell all these years. However, that chapter in her story is done and now begins a new one. I believe that this version may be even more of use to the greater good, what with the Shadow sprawling from the East and Saruman's descent into madness..."

A heavy pause fell between them for a time.

"So in light of Saruman's treachery you've taken it upon yourself to appoint a successor to his role in the Council?" spoke Elrond at length.

"That is not what I said."

"But it's what you intend, is it not?" the elf turned to the wizard now, a quizzical expression shaping his angular features.

"I will not pretend to know what lies ahead of us," said Gandalf, gently miffed by the elf's clever guess-work. "From what I can gather, I would say that the days will only further to darken as Sauron cultivates power. Saruman's job is to facilitate the growth and by all accounts he is doing remarkably well. You wonder why I have gone as far as to summon an ancient river spirit and I am telling you that her hand is needed in this game. She is powerful, Lord Elrond, more so than you can imagine. It would be highly foolish on your part if you were to prohibit her from an induction into the Company."

"Would her strength not be more suited to defending Rivendell? Or perhaps even the Shire?" questioned Elrond. "Surely you are able to handle the Fellowship alone? Aragorn would be steadfast in aiding you, I am certain."

"Again, the future is unforeseeable, even for myself. I, of course, am more than capable of handling the Fellowship and I know Aragorn will be as faithful as he ever is, but that is not why she is here. Ellethmilumel has many unique attributes and as I have said, is very powerful. I would like her, if nothing else, to come as my relief should something happen to me in the course of this journey."

Elrond had his gaze fixed on something far off in the distance, a grave frown weighting on his face, the thin braids that framed it wavering slightly in the wind. "And if nothing happens? What then? What service does she play?"

"Oh, plenty of them, I can assure you. Starting with a certain young hobbit who somehow wriggled his way into all of this," said Gandalf, a grin spreading on his lips. "She will have more than enough on her plate to keep busy. Think of it as her training. As a way of initiation."

"Before officially joining the Council?" Elrond put together.

The wizard gave a nod, putting out his pipe and stuffing it away within his layers of dingy grey robes. They stood there a long while it felt, with the great elf lord processing the information given to him by the Istari. Gandalf knew all of this had been fast in acting and left Lord Elrond scarce time for mulling things appropriately, as should have been the case. It was both a difficult and simple decision to make; difficult, in that permitting one of his greatest allies to leave on a most hazardous quest was not something he had taken into consideration before; simple, in that with such power she carried it made utter sense to send her along.

With a defeated sigh that was not usual of the elf, Elrond seemed to have come to his decision and he spoke like that of a father who was preparing to let his daughter go.

"I think it would be in the best interest of everyone involved that she be included in the task. All that I ask for is a few moments alone with her to bid my farewell."

Gandalf nodded, clasping Elrond's shoulder with warmth. "Of course."

* * *

"Now, there are a few things we must change, one being your name."

Drnugrl looked surprised. "My name?"

The two Maiar had left Elrond's study seconds ago after Drnugrl had made her private parting with the elf lord and were now heading towards the Eastern side of the house for a meeting with the Company that Gandalf had arranged prior.

"Yes. Though we know each other by our true titles, others know us differently. Just like how the elves call you Ellethmilumel and I Mithrandir. However, throughout most of Middle Earth I am known by a far more common word: Gandalf. Which is what you shall also be addressing me as for now on. I think I know of a good name for you; it is simple yet sturdy in nature. You are Eima. Yes, I think it is a good fit.

"Along with your new name comes a few other entailments. You have taken on that of human flesh form, so you are indeed human by all intents and purposes; however, you are not of mortal blood. You are in fact endowed with all the properties that I myself possess. Of couse, that is not to say you will have no need to sharpen up a few tricks and talents. I have a few extra years of experience on you, so do not be envious or discouraged if something does not automatically come about. In contrast to me you are female, which unfortunately may only complicate matters in this new life. We must take that into account. A woman with extraordinary abilities is not usually admired here. You will be safe within the Fellowship, but outside of it you are vulnerable. Take what you know and use it to your advantage, but never use it in the case of enmity. Nothing good will ever come of that, I can assure you. You will learn much and will continue to do so until all of Arda has faded away from memory and time, so be sure to keep an open mind and close lip. Give advice when it is asked for and not just when you see fit. Refrain from judgement. Do not doubt the strength in others, no matter how small or frail they may appear. But most of all, Dear Drnugrl, beloved sister, _love_. Love unconditionally. I can never quite stress this enough.

"Now you are Lady Eima, my dearest friend and keen apprentice. You are from Ered Luin, in the Far North. Your exact origins are unknown to even me, though it can be said you are of an ancient royal bloodline that is all but extinct-which accounts for your somewhat exotic appearance. Are you following so far, Eima?"

The pale woman who would be from this moment hence forth known as Lady Eima looked to be pondering on something, nibbling her bottom lip, brow creased in the center. She eventually came to nod, saying:

"So, Gandalf, where is our Fellowship?"

* * *

Anxiety was eating away at Pippin's soul while he waited with the rest of the Company upon the circular platform that served as the spot of the Council of Elrond just a couple of days ago. He fidgeted consistently, twisting this way and that in his chair, swinging his short legs to and fro, bobbing his curly head to look around every few minutes. On either side of him sat one of his elder cousins: Merry on the right and Frodo on the left. They had all ate a short breakfast in a private quarter with Bilbo only minutes before and already the youngest hobbit's stomach was beginning to growl demandingly. He groaned and hoisted his legs up onto the chair and folded them one over the other, resting his chin in the palms of his hands. He tried to occupy himself by counting the various birds that flitted by, their colorful plumage gleaming in the dazzling rays of sunshine. One could truly not have wished for a better morning: the sky overhead was a gorgeous cerulean dotted with sparse fluffy white clouds that moved along gradually in the Western wind; the air was warm yet held a crisp quality about it, a sort of freshness that reminded one of newly trimmed flowers or grass; somewhere in the depths of the elven city the chiming of some instrument could be heard, accompanied by a clear, high voice that could only belong to one of the Fair Folk.

A minute or so had gone by and Pippin sighed loudly, unfolding his legs and dangling them over the chair edge once more, swinging them back and forth so vigorously that he was causing himself to bounce. He glanced sideways at both his cousins. Merry was smoking his pipe, his eyes closed, apparently relaxed; meanwhile, Frodo was conversing lightly with Sam, who sat on his left. This somehow annoyed Pippin, his elder cousins not paying any attention to him whatsoever. As if he were some sort of afterthought. Of course they would not mind him being omitted from The Fellowship when they barely cared about him now. Did they not understand the pressure he was under at this very moment? He could very well be sent back to The Shire with a rolled up piece of parchment in his hand and that would be the end of it. His nerves were at wit's end. He could not take it a second longer, with all of them so content and confident around him, while he sat there with a fretful mind. Sticking his legs straight out and raising his arms above his head, Pippin released a sudden noise from the pit of his belly that sounded like a mix between a squeak and a burp with the volume of a shout. The startled Fellowship turned their eyes onto the hobbit, bewildered expressions splayed on their faces.

"What in Heaven's name was that, Peregrin?" said Frodo crossly, recovering from nearly having his heart attacked in his chest.

"I cannot take this waiting around! It's driving me mad!" cried Pippin in hysteria, springing forth from his chair.

Merry, who'd not been so perturbed by his cousin's weird outburst as the rest had, expertly shot forward and snatched the collar of Pippin's shirt with the hand that was not holding a pipe, yanking him back down into his seat none too gently.

"Merry!" whined the young hobbit, shocked and abashed.

"Hush! You are acting absurd, Pippin," said Merry in a sharp tone, knocking the younger hobbit round the back of his head. "You wanted to be a part of this thing, so shape up, will you? Elseways, Gandalf won't think twice about giving you the boot."

"I'd say I already have gotten it..." said Pippin miserably under his breath, slumping so deep in his chair that his chin came to rest upon his chest.

Thankfully the old wizard came strolling along some few minutes subsequent to the whole exchange between the hobbits. The Fellowship was all at once alert, all the members straightening in their seats, placing full attention on the elderly man as he joined them on the platform.

"Finally!" said Pippin under his breath, though loud enough that Gandalf heard.

"Finally?" echoed the wizard, amazement drawing on his weathered features as he turned to face the youngest member of the Company. "I indicated no specific time for the meeting, only that it would be somewhere after breakfast, so how can I possibly be late, Master Peregrin? Take heed, patience is a virtue."

All eyes were on Pippin now, and he slumped even further down in his chair than before, his cheeks tinted a deep shade of pink. Frodo patted the top of his head, while Merry snorted in amusement, which earned him a mean pinch on the arm from Pippin.

"If we are all settled then," said Gandalf, eying the hobbits, in particular Pippin, then cleared his throat. "Firstly, I thank you all for coming. I am sure that you are all quite eager to find out what this is all about, so I will not delay a second longer. Come here, my lady."

The Fellowship looked puzzled at the mentioning of a female and even more still when said female strode around the corner and out onto the platform as well. Silence fell among the circle of males, their gazes drawn to her striking features; everyone, save for Pippin, was rendered speechless by her mere presence.

"That's _her! _That's the lady I seen last night in the garden, Merry!" said Pippin in great excitement, poking at his cousin's arm.

Merry, who had been completely enthralled by the pale woman, jumped a bit in his chair at Pippin's touch, the curly hairs on his head and feet standing on end as if electrified by lightening.

"Shut up, Pip!" he hissed back, highly irritated.

"Both of you, please, be quiet." said Frodo with unusual sternness.

Paying no heed to the hobbits, Gandalf took the woman's nearest hand in his own, and introduced her. "This is Lady Eima Ellewynth, of Ered Luin. She is a fine, dear old friend of mine, who has in recent years been shadowing me as an apprentice of sorts. To answer the question on your faces, she is to be accompanying us as the tenth member of our Fellowship, by recommendation of myself and Lord Elrond."

There was again silence and again the first person to break it was Pippin.

"So I'm _not_ being replaced? Oh! Thank heavens!" he said, his spirits elated.

Frodo and Merry rolled their eyes, but Gandalf cocked a bushy eyebrow at the young hobbit. Next to the wizard, Eima blinked and her mouth quirked to the side, amused by the queer little creature. She recognized him as soon as he did her, remembering him to be what Gandalf called a hobbit. There were four in all within the Company, all of them possessing heads of lavish curls and large, hairy feet, which Eima found to be funny. It was then that she looked to the rest of the members, surprised by the diversity; there at the farthest chair sat elegantly in it a handsome, young elf; some few seats down from him, nearer to the hobbits, was a stout, red-bearded dwarf who held a heavy-looking instrument across his lap; across the width of the platform from them were two men. One that Eima was familiar with, the other not so.

"What, may I ask, was the purpose behind this recommendation?" inquired the unfamiliar man, scrutinizing Eima with hard, skeptical eyes.

"The purpose, Lord Boromir, is that she made a request upon me. She wished only to represent her dying race in the vanquishing of the evil in the East. Being my apprentice as she is, I could not deny her. I think she is to make a good addition, as does Lord Elrond, otherwise I am certain he would not have given his blessing. Does this explanation suffice you?" said Gandalf.

The man named Boromir looked from Eima to Gandalf to Eima again, seeming very reluctant as he gave a slight nod of his head. His stony gaze then remained on Eima for the length of the meeting.

The second man, the man that Eima knew well, got to his feet and bowed his head to her.

"Welcome, Lady Eima, to our Fellowship," said he in a gracious manner, his voice a pleasant, low tenure. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Boromir, son of Denethor," he motioned to the man beside him first, then toward the elf and dwarf. "That is Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Gimli, son of Gloin."

The elf and dwarf, Legolas and Gimli respectfully, rose from their seats as well and bowed to Eima, welcoming her into the Fellowship. Aragorn's sights fell then on the four hobbits and immediately they stood and mimicked the former. Each bowed in turn and introduced himself to her. The first to do this was the hobbit with raven curls and brilliant blue eyes that rivaled her own icy orbs; his name was Frodo Baggins and he spoke in a fashion that Eima had not anticipated. Though he looked young in years, his voice and tone reflected that of a much older and learned person.

The second to introduce himself was one of the two hobbits who had spied her the night before. He had a confident air about him and a clever face and eyes that twinkled with intelligence. His name was Meriadoc Brandybuck and he was determined to make himself stand out from the rest, with his chest puffed and chin held up in the air.

The third hobbit was the other one who had seen her last evening. The boisterous little thing bowed his whole upper torso at her, then snapped back to his original position, beaming at her with a most lovable, innocent face. He said his name was Peregrin Took, but apparently everyone called him Pippin and that's what he liked best.

The fourth and last of the hobbits was a bashful sort, who did not seem too eager to share his title with her. He barely made eye contact with Eima as he mumbled his name, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. Eima strained her ears and just caught the words Samwise Gamgee before they were whisked away by the valley breeze.

"Yes, good, very good," said Gandalf once they'd finished, nodding his head. "So, now that you've all been acquainted to our new member and she with you, I think it would all be in our best favor if we make off at once. Needless to say, the road in front of us is a long one. The sooner we take to it, the better."

* * *

A/N: Hello everyone, hope you all enjoyed the latest installment of Ellethmilumel! I still feel rather conflicted about the outcomes of this chapter, but whatever, it is what it is. Sorry if it seems chunky, I wrote most of this out of order and in different times. Anyway, I would greatly appreciate reviews! If you have any burning questions, drop me a PM or leave it in the review, it does not matter.


	4. Growth

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own 'The Lord of the Rings'. I just enjoy writing about hobbits and Middle Earth. Please don't sue me.

* * *

_"A family is a risky venture, because the greater the love, the greater the loss... That's the trade-off. But I'll take it all."_

-Brad Pitt

* * *

Chapter IV: Growth

* * *

A week had come and gone since the Fellowship's exodus from Rivendell, and really there was not much to tell of these seven days. It was straight trekking across the spread of land that lie between the Misty Mountains and the River Bruinen for the most part and the other parts were of sleeping and eating when necessary. At the start of their first day of traveling they had taken a brief recess for a bite to eat at the insistence of the youngest member of the party. It was then that Eima experienced food for the first time and the odd pleasure of it.

"You can't expect anything large for this meal, Pippin," his cousin Merry had cautioned him whilst rummaging through one of the many packs that burdened the pony, Bill. "We need a decent supper after all."

Pippin, who was sitting on the ground a foot or so away, tracing figures in the dirt with a stick, exhaled in a huff. "I know, I know! I just want a quick fix for this rumbling in my belly, that's all."

"A quick fix indeed," snorted Gandalf nearby, already showing signs of annoyance at the young hobbit. "We are not on some simple jaunt, Peregrin Took, that yields to the demands of hobbit bellies on a whim. Enjoy this moment, for I promise you will not get another until we've made camp tonight."

The other Fellowship members had either sat for a rest as well or scouted the land, possibly for signs of danger. The man, Aragorn, and the elf, Legolas, had both walked on ahead towards the north, whilst the man, Boromir, retraced their tracks southward about a mile to ensure they were not being pursued by anyone or anything. Gandalf and the dwarf, Gimli, had seated themselves with the hobbits. Eima, still very shy and uncomfortable among them, hovered some feet from their circle, though observing them closely with her icy blue orbs.

"Here, Pip, try some of these." said Merry, withdrawing a small burgundy pouch, that was tied up at the top with a glinting gold string.

He ordered the younger hobbit to put out his hands, which Pippin did eagerly, licking his lips and eying the tiny purse hungrily. Merry then tipped the pouch over and dumped a frugal helping of dried berries into Pippin's cupped palms.

"There!" Merry smiled at his cousin, tying the pouch back up neatly. "How's that?"

Pippin was frowning down his pointy nose at the scant pile of berries in his hands, his whole demeanor seeming to have slumped with anticlimax. "Pathetic." he muttered under his breath, plucking a withered berry and popping it into his mouth.

Merry had caught what he said with his sharp hearing, but shrugged it off. What else could he possibly expect from Pippin Took? He offered some to Frodo and Sam, who both declined politely, then to Gimli, who also did not accept; he did not bother with Gandalf, who was busy smoking his pipe, his gaze flitting over to Pippin every now and then. The wizard was clearly growing impatient with the time they were wasting on the young hobbit's overactive appetite. As Merry was heading back to Bill to return the pouch of berries, he noticed the gleaming white mane of Eima flipping in his peripheral vision and he realized he had not gone and made her an offer!

"Lady Eima," said he, hustling over to her. "Forgive me! I almost went and forgot you were even here." He then presented the burgundy purse to her with a bashful smile and reddened cheeks. "Berries, M'lady? They're of the finest, I hear."

"All is forgiven, Master Brandybuck," said Eima in a quiet, calm manner, the ghost of a smile appearing on her pale pink lips. "I tend to be forgotten by many, but no more. You say you have berries of the finest kind for me?"

Merry nodded, his off-centered smile ever widening. "Grown in the gardens of Lord Elrond, or so Gandalf says. Anyhow, they're really good quality."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try a few," said Eima, extending her hand towards him, palm upward-facing. "Thank you, Master Meriadoc."

"You are most welcome, Lady Eima. And, please, call me Merry." said he whilst dropping a few berries upon her hand.

"Merry? Alright then. Merry you shall be," said Eima kindly, holding the berries to her heart as she looked down on him with gentle eyes. "And you may call me just Eima. We all know I'm a lady, after all."

"Of course! A mighty fair one at that. Oh!" the hobbit scrunched up his face as if in pain. "Curse my loose tongue! Please, I didn't mean to be so bold. It's just I-you are-"

Eima put up her free hand to bade him be silent and he immediately shut his rambling mouth, eyes round as saucers, cheeks flushed tomato red.

"I take it as a compliment, as anyone should," said Eima softly, a genuine smile borne upon her lips. "Thank you, Merry."

The hobbit bowed to her, grinning from ear to ear. "Again, you are welcome, L-er, I mean, Eima."

He turned then and made his way back to Bill, and Eima dropped her gaze to the berries in her hand, intrigued by the notion of them. She delicately picked one out from the helping that was settled in the middle of her palm and studied it closely for a moment or two before putting it into her mouth. Upon chewing it she was hit with a blast of senses from her tongue; tingling, powerful sensations that she was almost shocked by. As dramatic an effect they had on her, in the end Eima decided she enjoyed the feeling of the berry inside her mouth and ate the rest of them with relish.

Gandalf held firm to his word and they made no more stops for food for the rest of that day. The going was smooth so far and quiet, except for the hobbits chattering with each other and Gandalf putting in his two cents every so often. While Gandalf led the group, Aragorn brought up the rear, his shaded eyes ever vigilant to their surroundings. Boromir went on before him, also watchful, especially of the hobbits that scurried along in front of him. Gimli strode in his steady dwarvish fashion beyond the tiny gaggle of halflings, and some few feet ahead of him Legolas tread fleet of foot, as all elves did. Eima herself strolled gracefully between the elf and Gandalf, looking at all of the wide world that went on endlessly towards the horizon with a yearning glint in her eye. The land called to her and if she were not bound to this Fellowship she would have ran out to it in a lustful blaze. But she was indeed bound to a purpose, and the Maia would be steadfast as she promised to Gandalf.

"Another lovely day. Hopefully this good weather keeps up." said Frodo when they had all taken a pause for relieving themselves around noon on the third day of their excursion.

Eima nodded at him, her hair flickering in the gentle breeze.

"You are light on your feet and easy is your pace," he remarked, his stunning blue eyes evaluating her. "If not for your dull ears I would mistake you for an elf, Milady."

"Well, I have dealt with and known elves my whole life. Perhaps some of their attributes have rubbed off on me?" said she, bending to pick up an intriguing rock that sat near her left foot.

The hobbit with the glistening raven curls watched her with a small smile.

"It was a noble thing for you to join us. I know that if it had been up to me, I would have given the ring to another and avoided this quest altogether. Alas, that was never to be the case apparently."

Eima held the curious rock up to her eyes, rotating it between her slender fingers, admiring how its gleaming white color caught the sunshine. After a few moments of studying it she gave it to Frodo, who took it and also examined it with interest.

"Things happen for a reason, Frodo. You have this Fellowship, and it will prevail over the evil that you bear."

"Huh, you seem so sure." Frodo sighed as he tucked the white rock into his jacket.

"I'm sure of one thing, and that is night does not last forever. Dawn must always come to follow it." said Eima in a wise way that reminded Frodo very much of Gandalf.

Once they had all done their business (and after a quick spat between Pippin and Gandalf that involved something about lunch and empty bellies for what must have been the hundredth time), the company was off again. Eima decided this time around to walk nearer to the hobbits, for she found them to be very compelling creatures the more she was in their presence.

"My feet are so sore." Pippin was at present complaining in what he thought to be a inconspicuous way, but in reality the whole party heard him.

"Mine are too, Pip. Don't feel so bad." said Merry quietly, noting the pale woman's close proximity.

"And I'm _starving_." continued the Took.

"We'll be having supper before you know it, Pippin." soothed Frodo, patting his youngest cousin on the back.

"Yeah, and skip all the meals in between." grumbled Pippin, kicking at a stone.

"You'll survive, Master Took. I promise you," called Gandalf over his shoulder. "A few missed meals will have no large impact on your overall health."

Pippin scoffed and made a face at the back of Gandalf's head, and Eima could not contain a giggle that erupted suddenly from her throat. The hobbits' heads all turned in her direction in unison, four sets of eyebrows lifted.

"Something you find amusing, Eima?" questioned Merry seriously, though his twinkling eyes said he was playing.

Eima shook her head, biting her bottom lip so as to prevent any further giggles from escaping. She reached her hand into a pocket that was stitched onto the inside of her cloak, then addressed the youngest hobbit.

"Here, Pippin."

Pippin tilted his head questioningly at the woman, but went to her all the same, the attentive gazes of his cousins following him.

"Yes, Eima?" said he, looking up at her with uncertainty in his large, green eyes.

Without a word, Eima stuck out her hand to him. Pippin's eyes doubled in size at the sight set before him.

"Where did you get that?" he inquired of the glossy red apple that sat perfectly in her palm.

Eima winked at him. "I might have snuck it from Bill's load. Would you like it?"

"Would I?" Pippin made to grab the fruit, but hesitated. "Aren't _you _hungry, though?"

Eima shook her head, snowy tresses swinging. "Here. Take it." she put the apple in his small hands.

Pippin grinned down at the delicious present, then back up at Eima.

"Thank you, Eima."

"You're welcome, Pippin. Now, go and enjoy that. I'm sure we still have a ways to travel today."

The little hobbit skipped back to his place in the midst of the elder ones, showing off the apple and teasing them with it. The others threatened to take it away from him if he kept on, so he became quiet and instead pacified himself with the sweet treat. Whilst Eima eyed the hobbits with sideway glances, she happened to catch Boromir staring at her. It was not a burning stare or one clouded with suspicion as he often wore; it was a open stare that spoke of honest curiosity. Eima stared back at him for a few moments, then she put a finger to her lips, signifying him to keep his mouth shut about the apple. The Captain of Gondor looked puzzled. Eima just rolled her blue eyes and shook her head as she turned to face forward once more.

When the fifth day of their journey had finally come to a close and the Fellowship had halted by Gandalf's command, they set up camp on a rise of land that was peppered with scraggly dead chestnut trees. In the course of the past five days, Eima was feeling increasingly relaxed with being part of the company. She no longer looked for refuge in the dark or drifted away from the other members during meals to eat alone. She was not a chatterbox by any means, but she could hold up a light conversation when put to the task. Especially when dealing with the hobbits.

"Here, Lady Eima, sit with us!" ordered Frodo jovially at suppertime. "Gandalf can do without you by his side once in a while."

"Just call her _Eima!" _implored Pippin.

"That's disrespectful, Pippin," rebuked Frodo. "What sort of gentlehobbit will you be one day?"

Pippin's eyes rolled backward in overblown exasperation. "I'm not being disrespectful! If you had any lick of sense, _dear cousin, _then you would know that the lady prefers it!" shot back the Took.

Frodo frowned at Pippin, then turned to look at Eima with a furrowed brow.

"Is that true?" asked he, clearly believing that Pippin's word was not enough.

Eima settled down not far from where Gimli was and directly across from the hobbits, folding one leg over the other, speaking all the while.

"Yes, Pippin is right. Just Eima will do."

"Told you so!" said Pippin in triumph, sticking his tongue out at the brunette hobbit.

Frodo pointedly ignored him, his attention aimed at Eima currently. "Right, well that bothers me none. I've always found titles to be hindering of normal speech anyway."

"Agreed on that one," put in Merry, lighting up his pipe. "Master this, lady that... there's no point as can be mattered, in my most humblest of opinions."

Eima smiled at him. Her gaze traveled over to where Sam was preparing the food at the fire, his back towards her, a soft humming coming from him. Whatever he was making, it smelled incredible, just as all his previous creations had. Eima could feel herself salivate. She swallowed, suddenly starting to understand just how Pippin felt about food and its importance in the world. In need of distracting her begging taste buds, she lifted her head to look into the sky overhead; night had replaced the day and the stars were fast materializing from out of the inky blue. The wind had died and all was calm now. Not a stirring of dried branches nor any wild noise could be heard. It was silent and still atop the hillock. Well, besides for the Fellowship that lay there. Eima thought it was a bit eerie, if truth be told.

"Here, Mr. Frodo, some spiced sausage and greens. Hot and ready to eat." said Sam in a cheerful tone, handing a platter off to his master.

"Thank you, Sam," said Frodo as he accepted the plate, sniffing at the alluring aroma that stemmed from it. "Smells like heaven!"

Pippin leaned over close to Frodo, sticking out his nose for a good whiff as well. Sam seen this and hurried to make up another dish before the young Took could begin to badger his cousin for a taste or two.

"Here, Master Pippin," Sam padded back over speedily. "Eat up!"

"Oh, I _will." _promised Pippin, smacking his lips and stretching out his greedy fingers for the platter of food.

Sam sighed wearily through his nose down at the youngster, then turned to Merry. "Would you like-"

"No worries, Sam, I can serve myself just fine." Merry spoke over him, getting to his feet, pipe stuck in the corner of his mouth.

He patted Sam's shoulder as he passed by on his way to the bonfire, where the pots were laden with plenty of food for everyone. After him the rest of the Fellowship did the same, grabbing a dish and piling it with steaming meats and greens. All except for Legolas, who was not very hungry that evening.

"Was it inherited?" wondered Frodo.

It had been some time after they had all finished their meals and cleaned up, and now the Fellowship was preparing to hunker down for the night to get rest. But, not before a few last minute words of exchange from the hobbits. For a moment, Eima had not a clue who Frodo was talking to. She looked at him and he was looking straight back at her expectantly.

"What?" she did not understand his inquiry.

"Your hair." clarified Merry.

"Oh, this?" Eima grabbed all of her long, colorless mane and pulled it around in front of her and slid her hands down its length. "No. I was an oddity." she conjured the explanation from out of the thin air. Gandalf had not given her much to run on for details of her imaginary race and history.

The four hobbits looked on at her with wide, curious eyes. Especially young Pippin, whose mouth was hung open just a smidge.

"Well, queer as it may be, Lady Eima, I reckon it's quite pretty to the eye." said Sam in a timid voice.

Eima's eyes fell on him, her cheeks she felt warm and her heart swell a bit.

"Thank you, Sam!"

"He tells the truth," said Frodo with a kindly smile. "Your hair reminds me of the new fallen snow that comes with Yule. It is indeed beautiful, Eima."

Eima thanked him and wanted to ask what Yule was exactly, but never got the chance as the four hobbits had retired to their makeshift beds for sleep, leaving the woman and Aragorn the only two members left awake. Legolas did not fully count, for he never honestly slept, as was the way of elves. Eima had seen him wander about the area on his own a couple of hours ago as they all had been eating, eventually disappearing below the eastern side of the hillock. She had not seen his fair head since.

A shiver jolted Eima's body and she wrapped her arms about herself, inching nearer to what was left of the fire now. The temperature had managed to drop considerably without the aid of any wind; it was a damp cold, that had a way of seeping inside of you and chilling you to the core. It was overwhelming to have all of these sensations of the flesh. It made the Maia feel disturbingly weak and small compared to her former being-

"Here."

Eima jumped at the voice and touch on her arm, whipping around to find herself face-to-face with Aragorn. How had she not heard him come up like that?

She could see him smirk a little in the dim light of the fire's embers, his head on a slight tilt to the right.

"Did I scare you, my lady?" he queried in a half-whisper.

"No. Of course not," said Eima stoutly, eying the bulk of material in his hands. "Did you need something, Lord Aragorn?"

"I thought we were not using titles, Lady Eima?" said he, and he was indeed smirking quite a lot.

"Yes, you're absolutely right. Let me try that again-" Eima shut her mouth and cleared her throat. "Did you need something, _Aragorn?"_

He shook his head and extended the material in his hands towards her.

"I thought you looked like you needed some extra warmth. Take my cloak. It's worn and filthy, but it gets the job done." he said in his calm, knowing voice that the Maia endeared.

Eima looked hard at him, blinking, her brow creased in the middle.

"I thank you for your generosity, Aragorn, truly, but I am not the one who is on watch tonight. You are in a greater need of warmth than I."

Aragorn chuckled. "I'll be fine. I'm used to this sort of lifestyle, you know? Please, take my cloak. Trust me, as the night deepens the cold will sharpen, and you will wake up wishing you had accepted my offering when it had been given."

Again he thrust it at her, nodding his head encouragingly. The ranger would not give up, so with a shrug, Eima reluctantly took it from him. She weighed it on her hands, a little surprised at how heavy it was, then tossed it about her shoulders. The relief from the frigid night air was almost instant.

"Thank you, Aragorn." said she, genuinely meaning it.

The ranger inclined his head. "You are most welcome, Eima. Get some rest now. Good night."

Eima watched him turn and head back to his post, leant up against one of the sparse decaying chestnut trees that had once flourished atop the hillock at some point in time past, before turning away herself to find a place to sleep amid her companions. Needless to say, the cloak kept her warm and comfortable throughout the night.

More days passed and the bond of the Fellowship only seemed to strengthen further. They had now traveled twelve days together, ate together and slept together and Eima could notice herself changing. Not outwardly, but inwardly. Her heart, whose beat at first she did not fully understand, began to feel whole in her chest. It just felt right in there. It felt wonderful when she spoke to her comrades, whom she believed she could call her friends, and they laughed with her, or whispered with her, of just enjoyed the silence. It was in many ways not so different from how life had been for her before, except now she could really _feel_. She could see, touch, smell, taste and be truly alive. And it was a glorious thing.

On the thirteenth day, the Fellowship finally came across a bit of rough terrain for the first time on the quest. The land had broken up into more rocks and less grass, and the ground was severely uneven with sunken holes, dipping up and down and up and down in small jutting hills. Legolas was the only person who did not have any issue with this, springing along in front of them all like some lazy deer frolicking in a meadow. The hobbits had the worst time though. Eima could see in their faces when they bared their teeth or screwed their eyes shut in hushed pain; she could not believe how they got about on their bare feet like they did, furry or not.

"How much longer do we have of this, I wonder..." grumbled Gimli under his breath, strolling next to Eima.

"Not much, I hope." replied Eima quietly.

They walked and walked and walked some more, for hours upon hours it seemed, and still the lay of the land was not showing any signs of change. More rocks, more hills, more rocks and hills. The sun was beginning to favor the Western portion of the sky now and it would not be long before it would make its descent complete, which left the majority of the Fellowship wondering whether they would find a comfortable site to make camp that night. Legolas had at one point bounded away out of sight, perhaps to see if the landscape was any different further ahead, and this made the Fellowship a bit hopeful. That is until he returned with a lowered shake of his head at Gandalf. Eima tried to brush off the frustration and exhaustion that was creeping up on her, but it was very hard. She eyed the setting sun with her cold blue eyes, praying to Eru that the daylight may not fade so fast tonight. She could sense someone meeting her pace beside her on the left and he spoke at length to her.

"You are very reserved, Lady Eima."

The woman made sure to take time in answering. "I am." She turned her head just enough to look at the man striding at her side. "And you are very observant, Lord Boromir."

"Ah, well," laughed Boromir lightly, though there was a hint of strain in his voice. "That may be true..."

Eima swiped a sideways glance at him, picking up her gait so as to shake him off; but, the Captain of Gondor doubled his strides to meet her speed, obviously wanting to keep up their chat.

"You know, I've not heard of your race before," said he, readjusting his shield on his back, tossing his head so as to rid his hair from hanging in his eyes. "Are there many of you?"

"There is me." responded Eima in a curt manner, wishing the man would leave her be.

"You? You mean, you are the last of your kind?" Boromir was looking at her with questioning disbelief written in his face.

"Yes. I am all that there is left. Do you have anymore inquiries of me or am I free to walk in peace now?"

Boromir was taken aback by her sharp words. "Forgive me, my lady."

He kept quiet for a few moments, his mouth a thin, tight line, brow drawn down heavily over his eyes. Eima thought he was waiting for her to speak, to say something in return, but nothing more came from her mouth, which was enough to spur him marching forward and away from her. She watched him go on before her, his shield shifting from side to side as he went. Eima wondered for a moment if perhaps she had been wrong in dismissing him like that; however, what reason had he given her to treat him otherwise? From observing him thus far, Eima had deduced that Boromir was a proud man, a jealous man, who seemed to never readily fit into the Fellowship. She sensed his animosity towards Aragorn, and that concerned her greatly. Whatever did he hold against her gentle friend? They were suppose to be a fellowship, united against evil, there was no room for unnecessary grudges, if that was the case being.

The only thing that redeemed him from his ill character was the care with which he treated the hobbits. Eima could not deny this. She at times even found him to be quite admirable in the way he looked after them, helped them, talked to them, played with them. Often she observed Merry and Pippin in his company, teasing him, pelting him with loads of questions, teaching him hobbit customs, which was always entertaining to witness. Pippin was especially impressed by the captain, something that had not gone unnoticed by Boromir, who made every effort to be a just role model before the young rapscallion. Eima appreciated that of him, but was it enough to give trust to?

It would appear that Eima's prayers had been answered, for at long last the sun dipped below the horizon, and in the expanse of the hours between the company had by good fortune discovered a relatively rockless area to set up their camp. Sam made a delightful vegetable stew for dinner, that even Legolas could not say no to seconds of. Eima herself had gone for more than three helpings, earning much torment from the hobbits thereafter. Frodo went as far as to question whether she had hobbit blood in her lineage, raising heated speculation from Merry, Pippin and Gandalf.

"You do realize that once a hobbit calls you his friend, there is no getting rid of him?"

Eima looked at Gandalf with a grin spreading across her pale face.

"That goes both ways." said she in return.

The grey wizard fought back his own grin to no avail, taking a seat by her side. It was late, and most of the party had gone to sleep by this time, save for the woman and the old man. Eima had volunteered to stand watch, for she'd yet to have her turn on the journey, and though she was exhausted, she felt no desire to close her eyes.

"You are doing remarkably well, Eima." said Gandalf in a whisper to her.

Eima sighed softly. "We've still got a long way to go..."

"Gives you all the more time to improve yourself further." countered the wizard smartly, patting her back.

"You have more faith in me than is wise, Gandalf."

Gandalf became quiet for a short time, then spoke. "Perhaps I'm not so wise a wizard."

This made Eima turn her head to frown at him. Gandalf was not looking at her though; rather, he was attending to his trusty pipe. He did not speak another word for the rest of the time he sat up with her, spending it all on cleaning the old pipe in a bit of a noisy fashion. Eima did not mind it, however. She could have cared less to talk, preferring more his company than anything else. Silence was louder than words could ever be, in her opinion.

A while later and Gandalf had eventually stood, bid her good night, and ambled off to find himself some rest before the dawn. Eima sat upon her designated rock, cross-legged, gazing up into the canopy of stars that veiled the sky with distant thoughts streaming through her mind once he had left her. They were not the sort of thoughts that you or I may think of; they were wide in the scope of ideas, and the ideas came from a depth of knowledge that only the eldest of trees and mountains could scarcely begin to fathom. These musings brought her to a place inside herself that she had not known of. It was good there, she felt safe and at peace with the world around her as she had once did before. So deep had they led her, Eima did not hear nor see who had come to join her.

"Eima? _Eima? _Hey!"

Eima jerked at the poke in her arm. She looked over, calming once she seen it was just Pippin sitting there on the rock with her.

"Pippin, I thought you were sleeping?" she whispered.

"No. I can't sleep," said he, eying her with interest. "Were you in a trance?"

Eima shook her head, tucking her white locks behind her ears. "No, I was thinking."

"That was some really hard thinking then." snorted the hobbit, gathering up his legs to his chest with his arms wrapped about them.

Eima shifted so as to be facing him. "Why can't you sleep, Pippin?"

The hobbit shrugged his narrow shoulders, resting his chin atop his knees.

"Dunno, I just can't for some reason..."

"So you've come to play guard with me? What makes you think I invited you, hmm? Perhaps I don't wish for a partner." said Eima, crossing her arms over her chest.

Pippin sat up straight, whipping around to look at her in shock and fear.

"I-I didn't think-I-I'm sorry, Eima! I sh-should have asked f-first! I-" he stammered pathetically, rising to his feet on the rock. "I-I'll go back t-to sleep-"

He was making to leave, but the white-haired woman lurched forward and grabbed his hand, keeping him in place.

"Pippin, don't leave!" she hissed. "I was joking with you! Come, sit back down with me."

Pippin was gawking at her in utter bafflement, but did as she said all the same, and returned to the position he had been in prior, though he took extra care in making certain he had a large enough space between himself and the strange woman.

"Did you honestly think I meant any of that, you silly hobbit?" teased Eima, smiling widely.

"You have a funny sense of humor." responded Pippin, hugging his legs tightly.

Eima's smile drooped. "I'm sorry, Pippin, I thought you knew?"

"You act the same when you're serious as when you're playing. It's hard to tell with your face sometimes." said Pippin gingerly, for it was clear that he felt uncomfortable in having to break this to her.

"Again, I'm very sorry, " repeated Eima, letting out a long exhale of air. "I'm still getting used to... _hobbit _culture. I suppose I have quite a bit of shapening up to do yet, don't I?"

"Yes, you do!" heartily agreed Pippin, lifting his head to nod. "And you _will. _I'll make sure of that!"

Eima grinned at him, happy that he had forgiven her so quickly. "I am sure you will indeed." she then reached over to tossle his hair in affection.

Eima was struck by the young hobbit's mane. She moved her ash-white hand amid his unruly head of curls, surprised to find they were wonderfully soft; softer than down and silken in texture. Eima was fascinated and could not get enough of it, running her fingers deeper through the thick mess of auburn locks, rubbing against the hobbit's scalp. Pippin, it seemed, found mutual enjoyment in the act. He rolled his head back and upward into her hand in an effort to augment the pleasurable touch and from him issued a faint little sound of contentment. Eima's grin grew. It would appear that she had uncovered his sweet spot. The Maia decided that the furry-footed creature had to be the most precious thing she had ever come to know. She envied her brother now for having had all of those long years to spend with these little people. He should have called on her sooner, let her have time with them as well. She had but fleeting moments like this to truly learn of them, to bond, and it was a shame.

The longer Eima massaged and scratched his head, she could see Pippin start to succumb to sleep. So she kept it up for a good while until finally the hobbit slumped back against her, mouth agape and breathing softly. Eima bit back a giggle, leaned down and placed a kiss on top of his curly head.

"Sweet dreams, little one."

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A/N: Sorry for the long absence! Don't fret, I have not forgotten this story. Like I said before, this will be slow in telling, so, please, be patient with me! Hope you all enjoyed the newest installment and hopefully the next will not take so long! Be kind and leave a review, I always appreciate the feedback. :) If you have a gnawing question and do not wish to leave it in a review, then feel free to PM me as well!


	5. Games

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of 'The Lord of the Rings' universe. Just the nonsense I make up, and even that stuff I am not making money off of. All of the rights go to Tolkien Estate. I'm just a big, nerdy fangirl. Pay no mind to me.

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_"The more one does and sees and feels, the more one is able to do, and the more genuine may be one's appreciation of fundamental things like home, and love, and understanding companionship."_

_ -_Amelia Earhart

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Chapter V: Games

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_"Up's gone the sun, here I am a'wandering,_

_Belly aching, sore feet, and heart broken_

_Still I go on, though the road makes me wary,_

_I can't stop now, lest the old wizard harry!"_

The hobbits all broke out into a fit of laughter at the end of Pippin's song, and the rest of the Fellowship tried their utmost best to refrain from doing just the same, for fear of angering Gandalf. Nevertheless, Gandalf only huffed at the melody, excusing Pippin's boldness for his youth. Secretly, he enjoyed the tune. It brightened his spirits on this otherwise dismal morning.

"I have more!" said Pippin eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"I think that's good for now, Pip." eased Merry, laying a hand on the lad's shoulder.

Day fourteen of the journey, and it was the first time the band of misfit companions encountered sour weather. The wind was whistling and the sky was shielded in dark grey clouds that would drop a sheet of icy rain upon them every so often. As they walked, the hobbits drew a tight formation, their hoods up to cover their heads and faces from the spurts of rain, murmuring amongst each other. On and on the Fellowship would slog that day, in spite of the dreary showers that plagued them. The process was exceedingly slow, with blinding cloud-bursts in their faces at random, the boundless hills that were made even more difficult in mounting as the earth was moistened and slippery underfoot, and of course the usual pauses along the way for relief.

By late evening, not one member of the Fellowship was dry anymore and all of them were ready to collapse with exhaustion. Legolas was no longer ten paces ahead of them either, as was normal of the Mirkwood prince, and his silvery blonde mane hung lank about his fair face. The hobbits were lagging severely, only kept going by Aragorn consistently shepherding them forward.

"How much further do we have, Gandalf?" asked Gimli none too cheerful, slushing along noisily at the wizard's side. "I fear if we continue on like this we'll all be at risk of drowning!"

Gandalf did not answer immediately, but he stopped and looked around for a few moments before nodding decisively to himself.

"We'll cease our walking for tonight," he announced to the Fellowship. "Set up our camp here. We're not far from Hollin now-I'd say just on its outskirts. Tomorrow we will enter it."

The company did not have to be told twice. Since the scattered rainfall of the day had developed into a steady downpour over the last hour, there was no chance of building any sort of fire. Due to this, supper was of meager proportions that included dried berries of various sorts, nuts, bread and water. Hardly anything to sate a hobbit's hunger.

Because the place they had chosen to settle down was lacking of trees or shelter of any sort, the Fellowship was forced to deal with the deluge in slumber, something that the hobbits could not acquaint themselves with. Even when bundled up in their traveling cloaks and clustered into a knot with one another, they were not able to stave off the relentless rain.

The bigger people of the group made an effort to help with the problem, by creating a makeshift tent over the hobbits, using their weapons as stakes and Aragorn's dilapidated cloak as the cover.

"How does that suit?" said the ranger after the project was finished.

"This is much, _much _better!" gushed Frodo through a yawn. "Thank you all!"

Eima crouched low to peek underneath the flimsy shelter at the tangle of hobbits that lie there. Sam was laying on his back next to Frodo, who was on his side close to Pippin, who in turn was curled up snuggly to Frodo, and on the young one's other side Merry nearly encapsulated his baby cousin. The tender scene brought a smile to the Maia's face. Standing up to her full height once again, Eima looked around for Gandalf.

"Are they comfortable?" asked the old wizard when Eima approached him a few moments later.

The woman nodded her head, sitting down next to Gandalf on a large rock, paying no heed to the pelting rain. "This is dark weather." was her grim comment after a long time of silence, gazing straight up into the black sky.

"It is to be expected."

Eima became quiet, then spoke again some moments following, in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the steady torrent. "He _will not_ deter us."

Gandalf did not make any response to this. He merely took her hand and held it fast. In this strong grasp, Eima sensed a wavering in his being that more than disturbed her.

By morning the wet weather had thankfully subsided, and the sky was void of any clouds. Though the Fellowship was still sopping from the rain, they were dried rapidly by the gusty winds whilst they walked. Gandalf had been right in his estimating the evening last, and they had only walked perhaps a league or so before they officially passed the border into Hollin. The hilly and rock-infested land continued with them, though now there appeared to grow more vegetation, which included young hawthorn trees growing upon the occasional hillock.

Around noon time, Gandalf ordered a halt to the company, because he needed to think and he felt that they all deserved a rest after the impious day they'd had yesterday.

"Can you handle a sword, Lady Eima?"

The woman with the white hair drew her gaze from the distant mountains to look at Boromir who had addressed her. She eyed him for a few moments before shaking her head. The Captain of Gondor's eyes seemed to suddenly ignite with a spark, an eager grin tugging at his lips.

"No? Well, if the lady wishes, I could show her a few basic moves. It would be wise on your part to learn how to wield a weapon, possibly making up for the physical strength that you lack."

Eima narrowed her cold eyes. "What do you know of my physical strength, Son of Gondor?"

"I do not wish to offend you, Lady Eima," said Boromir in a cautious manner. "I only wish to help you in whatever way that I can."

Eima's gaze fell on him like some haughty queen set upon her throne. There was suddenly the pressure of someone's hand on her shoulder and Eima knew before she laid eyes on him that it was Gandalf.

"Yes, Gandalf?" said she with a hint of irritation.

He was giving her a stern look, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

"I think it would be good for you to accept Boromir's offering, Eima." said he in a low voice, though to Eima it sounded more like a growl.

Eima's nearly nonexistent eyebrows raised to the heavens; she looked confounded. The wizard gave her a nudge with his staff, nodding his head in Boromir's direction. Eima grudgingly got up from her spot, giving Gandalf a most unhappy look before going to join Boromir for their lesson in swordplay.

The Gondorian knight stood waiting for her down in a bare patch of land among the numerous large rocks and boulders that were collected in the area, holding his sword at his side, an amiable smile on his lips. He was interested in tutoring the foreign woman, for never in his life had he seen nor heard of a human female handling any sort of battle weapon. Though she was of a fragile build, there was a definite fire in her blue gaze that had the man wondering if she would prove a fierce warrior. Certainly with the right training and some added practice it could very well be possible.

While his thoughts had been churning about in his head, Eima had reached him and stopped a few feet in front of him. When he saw her withering expression, Boromir could not help but be a little disheartened.

"Well," he cleared his throat with a forced cough, holding up his sword. "Before we can start, you must have one of these as well, Lady Eima."

Eima frowned at him, then glanced down at her hip to find she had forgotten to fasten her belt and scabbard there. A growl of frustration escaped her, but before she could utter a word or do anything, someone begged her attention by tugging at her sleeve. Eima looked over by her elbow and there was Pippin; in his small hands he held her scabbard and sword.

"Gandalf said you'd need this." informed the hobbit with a crooked grin.

"He's right," said Eima taking the sword from Pippin and ruffling his curls. "Thank you, Pippin."

"Yup!" said Pippin, running back to where Merry was seated.

Eima secured her belt and scabbard about her waist, drew out the long, narrow elvish sword that lay hidden within, its unmarked blade reflecting the rays of the sun, then turned her focus onto Boromir once more.

"Right, set your feet firmly apart-about shoulder width," instructed Boromir, providing an example with his own feet. "You'll want to have a sturdy stance to start, if that's even possible, of course."

Eima exhaled as she followed his words of advice, her blue eyes locked onto Boromir. Boromir tried not to meet her gaze, for it often proved ill on his part, but it was a nearly impossible feat to accomplish.

"Once you have gotten into this position, hold your sword or whatever weapon you possess like so." Boromir carried on, adjusting the angle of his broad-bladed sword so that it was upright and crossing his left shoulder.

Eima did the same. Boromir studied her pose, noting how white her bony knuckles were as she gripped the hilt of her sword tightly.

"Relax, Lady Eima. You are looking a little tense. This is only an exercise." reminded Boromir in a kindly fashion, giving her a small smile.

The pale woman instantly eased herself, inhaling and exhaling with control, moving her slender fingers up and down along the hilt.

"Now... you block!"

In a movement so fast that Eima had barely enough time to react, Boromir swept his sword at her. Eima gave a cry of surprise, swinging her elven blade at his oncoming blow, but she was a second too late, and her sword was literally knocked right out of her hands when Boromir's came into contact with it. _Twang! _It went zipping off a few feet in the air to her left, landing with a dull thud on the gravelly dirt.

Merry gasped and Pippin snickered into his hands.

"Lady Eima!" said Boromir, going to fetch her fallen sword from the ground.

Eima rushed over, beating him to it. She picked the sword up and cleaned the dirt off by running it over the thigh of her trouser. She could feel her face was burning, so she daren't lift her head for fear of showing the splendid red that was sure to be painted there.

"Forgive me, my lady," said Boromir, who was near to her. "I thought you were ready."

Eima did not reply nor say anything. Once she had finished wiping her blade clean, the white-haired woman regained her former battle stance. She awaited Boromir to do the same, her eyebrows knitted, lips pursed, knuckles white. This time she would not be made a fool of. This time she would be more than prepared for him.

Boromir scrutinized Eima as he slowly returned to his previous position opposite from her, not entirely comfortable as he was just minutes prior.

"Are you-" he began, but was cut short by Eima.

"I'm ready."

Boromir hesitated momentarily, then repeated the sweeping motion he'd done in the first place. He was pleased when she fully blocked him, hard too. He felt the reverberations from the connection of the metal go up his arm, causing a split second of shock within him. Eima did not wait for more instructions from him, but went on and swung her sword around, aiming for his naked side.

Boromir caught on quickly, whirling about and catching her blade before it could do any real damage. They held the contact for a few seconds before Eima again tried to tag him in a weak spot. Once more Boromir blocked her with ease. Eima's upper lip lifted a bit, emitting a snarl of frustration. She tried again and again to catch him unawares, though he would always halt her blow.

With each new attempt, the strength and vigor behind the sword she wielded grew, as did her fury. She found herself both angry and troubled. How could this man, this _mortal_ man, so effortlessly beat her at every turn? How could she, an immortal Maia, let him? It made no sense. She was ageless, she was mighty, she was one of Eru's favored. So how was it now that she could not just simply put this man in his place?

Patience now spent, Eima threw every bit of her bodily strength at him, all of her raw, violent energy. Her sharp elvish blade cut through the air, right towards Boromir's abdomen. The captain of Gondor could see she was not playing at this point, and he laid his sword out against hers with more force than he would have normally given. It worked to his advantage, knocking it clear out of her grasp for the second time. Eima almost fell backwards, gaping at her flying sword with utter disbelief.

"Ah, come on, Eima!" said Merry in heavy disappointment, shaking his head. "You can do better than _that!"_

"Yeah! Even _I _could do better than that!" added Pippin, cackling like mad next to him.

Eima worked to catch her breath, backing up a couple of steps from Boromir. She retrieved her sword from the dirt and turned towards the two young hobbits sitting behind her on a pile of rocks, swiping the sweat from her brow onto the back of her free hand.

"Oh yes?" she was able to say a moment later, sheathing her sword.

Pippin nodded at her, a cheeky grin stretching his lips.

"Well, if that's the case, then why don't you prove it, Master Took?" said Eima sourly, her hands on her hips.

"Actually, that is not a bad idea." said Boromir all of a sudden.

Eima and the two hobbits looked at the man with questioning expressions drawing upon their faces.

"What is?" asked Merry.

"Pippin sword-fighting. With me," elaborated Boromir, swiftly adding. "And you as well, Merry."

"You want us to sword fight with you? Really?" said Pippin, a hopefulness lighting up his soft, youthful features.

"Yes, absolutely! That is, if you lads are up to it..."

At this Merry and Pippin turned at the same time to look at each other, then back at Boromir with excitement, leaping to their feet. As the two ran over, Eima threw Boromir a severe look, crossing her arms.

"What do you expect to do with them?" she questioned, rounding on him.

"I expect to teach them to fight. To defend themselves. Just as I tried to do with you, my lady." said Boromir in an even tone, internally wincing at her icy glower.

"And do you really believe that they could-" Eima stopped herself, seeing that the hobbits had reached them. "I mean, do you think it a wise choice, Lord Boromir?"

"Do you _not_ think it a wise choice?" Boromir returned the question to Eima, meeting her harsh stare straight on, his voice lowering so that only she could hear what he said next. "Out here in the rustic lands there is absolutely _no _certainty of what may or may not happen. To any one of us. And if, by some highly unfortunate chance, something _were_ to happen to us, how then would these halflings fare? They need to have some basic knowledge of the sword and combat, Lady Eima. Otherwise, I cannot see them lasting long on their own out in this unforgiving world."

Eima began to open her mouth to say something more, but realized that she could not do so. For what he said was true and made perfect sense in her mind the more she thought about it. She stood there, holding his earnest gaze for a moment before turning away from him, her white mane flapping in her wake.

"Are you going to watch, Eima?" wondered Pippin.

Eima nodded her head, sitting where the two had been a couple of moments ago.

"I will watch from here, Pippin. Now, prove me wrong and defeat that great man of Gondor."

Boromir chuckled good-naturedly at her blatant teasing. He then looked down at the two hobbits standing readily before him, with their swords out and faces eager.

"Alright then, we'll start exactly as I did with Lady Eima. Feet shoulder-width apart..."

So he repeated the training exercise with the two, giving example of good blocking to each in turn, then he led them to the next step which was parrying. As Eima observed them she thought about how she had acted whilst doing exactly as they were now with Boromir, and came to feel deeply embarassed for it. She could not believe how her emotions had gotten the better part of her so rapidly as they had, something she had been able to keep in check in her former life. She'd been so angry and driven to take down Boromir after he had disarmed her the first time, that she had not even given him the chance to properly teach her. What had she hoped to attain? Victory over him? Was she truly that bitter? That vindictive? If so, these were not good traits to own. Especially in the case of who and what she was. If Gandalf knew... well, he probably already did. He was extraordinarily intuitive after all.

"So, what's going on here? Am I seeing this correctly, or are my dear cousins actually fighting Lord Boromir?"

Frodo had appeared quite suddenly beside Eima, folding his legs underneath him atop the rock. In his hands he held a plate of freshly cooked meat that she did not recognize and some carrots.

Eima eyed the tasty-looking food as she spoke. "They actually are."

Frodo sighed, forking up some of the vegetable. "How much did they have to beg before he finally gave in? I suspect Pippin was the culprit in the scheme. That boy just doesn't know when to quit."

"Not this time," said Eima, brushing some dirt off of her tunic. "Boromir offered to give them lessons."

Frodo looked at her, very much shocked. "He did?" The elder hobbit shook his head, stuffing the carrots on his fork into his mouth. "That man is far too kind to those rascals." said he, munching thoughtfully.

It was not long before Sam eventually followed Frodo, also with a hefty plate of meats and carrots in hand. He seated himself on Frodo's other side on the rock, and the two had soon immersed themselves in conversation, leaving Eima to continue to watch in silence. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Aragorn had come to join the audience as well. He had his pipe out and was drawing on it leisurely, watching the trio with shrewd eyes. While he mostly just kept his eye on them, once or twice he voiced advice when something was just not going right.

Both Merry and Pippin were not all bad with their swords. They were, in fact, rather good. Eima soon forgot about her bad behavior, and became completely engrossed with the training duel in front of her. She would cheer and clap along with Frodo and Sam when one of the two other hobbits would keep off Boromir's attack and boo the captain when he overtook them, which was starting to get rare. Faster he made them move, their swords clanging loudly. Around and around they flitted, blocking, swinging, evading. However, one still had to remember that Boromir was playing with two inexperienced sword-fighters, and sooner or later an accident was bound to happen. Boromir, who had begun to enjoy the fake fight a lot, had perhaps gotten a bit too rough for his pupils. He gave a nasty whack at Pippin's little knife, but had aimed too low, and had nicked the young hobbit's hand.

Pippin yelped with a mixture of pain and surprise, dropping his weapon.

"Oh, Pippin! I'm sorry!" said Boromir anxiously.

Pippin's face contorted with half-hearted rage, then he charged at Boromir, kicking at his legs. Boromir doubled over, grabbing at his shank where the hobbit had struck. That was all it took. Once he'd had his head down, Merry and Pippin tackled Boromir to the ground. It was not a sight seen every day: two little hobbits bringing a fearsome Gondorian warrior to his knees.

Eima laughed uproariously at them as they rolled about in the dirt, Merry trying to keep Boromir from moving, Pippin pummeling him with tiny balled fists. Meanwhile, Boromir could scarcely catch his breath, he was guffawing so hard. When it seemed to have gone on for long enough, Aragorn got to his feet and intervened. He did not get out more than three words before the hobbits had him grounded too. There was a subsequent scuffle, between Boromir attempting to escape and Aragorn trying to capture the hobbits, but that was quite difficult when one was put to the task of fighting off the ranger and the other was left to holding onto the captain.

They were all stirring up the dirt considerably, and it even began to reach where Eima, Frodo and Sam were sitting. Sam hurried to get away from the tussle to save his meal and Frodo called out to his cousins in a stringent voice.

"Merry! Pippin! That's enough! Quit it before someone gets hurt!"

The two young hobbits heeded their elder cousin's order without delay, allowing Boromir to be set free. Merry and Pippin bounced up and marched over to Eima and Frodo, covered from head to furry toes in grime.

"I think we defeated him." said Pippin to Eima, grinning from ear to ear.

Eima giggled. "Yes, I think you did!" She stretched her arm out and swiped a finger across his nose, studying the dirt caked there. "Ugh! You're filthy!"

"Here! So you don't feel left out, we'll make you as filthy as we are!" said Merry jovially, leaning in to wrap the woman in a big hug.

"No! Don't you dare, Meriadoc!" cried Eima, laughing and shrinking away from him, but to no avail.

He and Pippin sprang from both sides at her, their small bodies enveloping her snuggly. Boromir and Aragorn, now on their feet once again, dirty as the hobbits were, wandered over to Eima and the two young ones. She was laughing and pleading for them to get off, though she did not put up much of a fight, and the hobbits paid no mind to her whatsoever.

"Why must you two torture everyone that we meet?" said Frodo.

"You want some too, Cousin?" asked Pippin, looking over at Frodo with a mischievous grin.

"You touch me, Peregrin Took, and you can guarantee a place over my knee." warned Frodo, downright humorless.

Sam, who had settled up on a higher area above the others with his platter of scrumptious food, chewed contemplatively as he watched them. He was thankful that he had retreated when he did, seeing now fair Lady Eima and his dear Master Frodo being assailed by Merry and Pippin. Shaking his head in disgust, Sam picked at the remnants of his juicy meat, chewing and looking about at the rocky land that spread in every direction. It made him tired just thinking about the walk they would have to make across it.

As Sam looked, his eyes spotted a peculiar dark patch in the Southward sky. At first he thought it was a cloud, but it seemed to be moving faster than usual, especially considering there was hardly any wind. Whatever it was, it gave the hobbit a strange sense of foreboding that he could not ignore.

"What is that?" he spoke aloud his concern to the rest of the party, making everyone look around sharply.

"Nothing! It's a wisp of clouds!" said Gimli, carelessly waving it off.

"No... It's moving too fast... Against the wind..." said Boromir, peering at the mass, disquieted.

Eima, Merry, Pippin, and Frodo ceased their playful fight, getting to their feet to look towards the black cloud-like object that was heading for them in a speedy manner. Legolas, who was balanced on the tip of a tall boulder, had been staring with great intensity at the odd mass for some time. It gradually came into clear view for him and he was alarmed by what he saw.

"Crebain!" he alerted his companions, jumping down lightly from his high place. "Crebain from Dunland!"

All members of the company were on their feet immediately, scrambling to find cover from the oncoming swarm. Aragorn urged Eima and the hobbits to move towards a thick brush, with Boromir following close behind him. "Hide! Hurry!" cried the ranger.

Most of them hid just in the nick of time, before the Crebain arrived in a tumult of hoarse cries and flapping of wings. The Crebain were large, crow-like birds that originated from the fertile lands of Dunland and the dark wood of Fangorn Forest. They were not like the ordinary bothersome crows that one may encounter in a garden or field. They were unfriendly creatures, rarely used in good practice. More often than not, these black birds were employed as spies. And it was the fear that this particular flock was performing such a duty.

Once the Crebain had long since passed over the Fellowship, the members cautiously reemerged. Many were stirred up with panic and the hobbits looked pitifully confused at all of the big folk.

"Please, calm yourselves!" said Gandalf, his powerful voice ringing in all of their ears. "Though it may seem that those beasts were sent to look after us, we do not know for certain. However, it may serve our best interests if we stay here, hidden for what remains of the day. I do not intend on risking our presence becoming known, if indeed that was the idea of the Crebain."

The Fellowship, wary and afraid, did as the wizard said, and laid low for the rest of that day. It was a tiresome business, to be sure. No one was glad for it. The quest would be long enough as is, they did not need to be hampered like this. Everyone grew quiet and sullen as the hours drifted by, except for Pippin. The youngest hobbit and member of the group was not coping well with the brooding silence that had taken hold of his friends. It was unnerving for him, as he was already quite spooked from the visit by the Crebain. He wanted to talk, to clear his mind of the darkness that dwelled there. But no one, not even his own kin, was willing to start a decent chat. Eventually the young hobbit came to terms with the situation they were in and settled down without a word next to Gandalf, and shortly thereafter fell to sleep.

At first light of dawn, Aragorn roused the company for a feeble breakfast. Gandalf told them of his plan to avoid the southern passage, from whence the Crebain came, which was the original route that they had intended to take. They would instead make for the Redhorn Pass, a long, narrow, and treacherous path that led up through the Misty Mountains, along the southern slopes of the towering and terrible Caradhras. It was a dangerous detour, but they really did not have any other choice at the present. Gimli tried his hardest to convince Gandalf to go through Moria, the dwarven kingdom that lay beneath the Misty Mountains, insisting it was a safer way, although the wizard would never agree to it. He was set against the mere notion of following that road under the mountains, which thoroughly puzzled the others. Still, no one dared to question his reasoning behind it.

And so went the company east, towards the Misty Mountains, ever watchful for the possible reappearance of the Crebain all along the way. It had now been fifteen days since the Fellowship had set out from Rivendell. The clouds were gathering all that day as they trudged up hills and down hills, often times threatening in appearance, and the company hoped that the rains of two days past would not make a return any time soon. The rough, rocky country of Hollin did not seem willing to let them go just yet. It would roll onward out of sight, merging into the line of the horizon, where the mountains loomed, shrouded in thick, white clouds. The party did not halt to camp until the blazing red sun had well set. Supper was as measly as breakfast had been, if not more so, much to the dismay of the hobbits. Boromir sat up for first watch that night.

It was Gimli's turn to wake up the Fellowship the next morning, as he'd relieved Boromir a few hours earlier for watch duty. Most of the clouds had moved off through the night, leaving only a few left to dot the pale blue sky that day. The sun was shining brightly, and the wind was in the west, gentle and easy against their backs. The fair weather helped to raise their spirits, giving each a fresh spring to their step. The hobbits were exceptionally elated, gabbing and laughing with one another. They all had quickened their pace, nearly prancing as they moved forward on nimble feet. Eima thought that the sun was feeding them energy - Pippin most of all. No longer was Legolas the only one hopping ahead of them; the young Took had skittered past Gandalf at the head of the line, like an arrow shot from a bow, not but a minute preceding. He gamboled about before the wizard, skipping from one rock to another, chattering merrily as he did.

"Peregrin, stop!" barked Gandalf. "This is not the time nor place for games!"

"Come now, Gandalf! Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud!" said Pippin, his joyous laughter filling the air. "The sun is warm, the day is new, I-" His speech was cut off abruptly, replaced by a gut-wrenching scream.

"Pippin!" said the three other hobbits at once, racing forward.

Gandalf was the first at the scene, his staff clunking on the hard, stone-littered ground as he hurried over to where Pippin had fallen. When at the hobbit's side the wizard knelt, lying his wooden staff down onto the nearby rocks. Gandalf took one long look at the whimpering Pippin and sighed wearily.

"Fool of a Took."

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A/N: Hope you folks enjoyed the latest installment of Ellethmilumel! I apologize if my sword-fighting jargon was incorrect in any way. I don't know anything about the sport or its rules. Don't forget to leave a review! I love reading all of your thoughts and comments on the story. Some of you may even help me improve by lending some friendly criticism!

Love. Peace. And second breakfast.


	6. Losing Time

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own The Lord of the Rings. All rights go to J.R.R. Tolkien. Only Eima remains my creation.

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_"I can accept failure, everyone fails at something. But I can't accept not trying."_

_ -Michael Jordan_

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Chapter VI: Losing Time

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Pippin's accident had given the Fellowship a mighty good scare. They came upon Gandalf, whom had picked the tween up from the rock-covered ground, and then handed him off to Aragorn. Aragorn carried Pippin over to a slightly more clear area of land where they could check him out. As it happened, Pippin had lost his footing as he'd been hopping about, and his right foot had caught the edge of a jagged rock. The rock had cut open the sole of his foot, leaving a trail of dark red blood after Aragorn had toted him away. The ranger set the hobbit down in a grassy spot among the stones and boulders, glanced at his foot, then straightened and strode off with unknown purpose. Merry and Frodo promptly flanked Pippin, scolding him, holding him, wiping his tears with their neat little handkerchiefs. Sam was vigilant from some feet away, being respectful of the cousins' space. Eima gave them a few minutes before she decided to step in, for she was concerned about Pippin as well.

"Here, may I have a look?"

Both Merry and Frodo looked over their shoulders at Eima, then drew aside for her; however, they remained hovering just beyond the woman's back. Eima crouched down in front of Pippin, greeting him in a soft, silken voice. The Maia's eyes flitted to Pippin's face and her heart clenched seeing the tear stains trailing down his cheeks. He was sucking in his bottom lip, trying his very hardest not to wail at the top of his lungs. With careful, gentle hands, Eima examined the hobbit's hurt foot. She could see now why these endearing creatures were able to cavort about shoeless in such a carefree fashion: not only were their feet covered in a layer of fur, but the soles of them were made of a thick, dark, leathery skin. But for all their toughness, they still bore chance of injury, and Pippin was sadly serving as a prime example.

Eima grimaced at the open wound that had sliced diagonally across the bottom of his foot, straight through the sturdy padding, revealing a bright pink interior and seeping blood.

"Is it bad?" inquired Pippin, his voice trembling. "G-Gandalf says it was fine, b-but it r-really doesn't fe-feel f-fine."

Eima swallowed, her blue eyes connecting with his green ones, which were brimming with another batch of unshed tears. He was blinking rapidly, his lips pinched and white. She opened her mouth to answer, but stopped, and shook her head. Merry coughed and Frodo shifted a bit behind her.

"It needs tending to, for certain," said Merry. "Wash it before infection sets in. Then we'll have to wrap it up with something."

Pippin groaned, dropping his head. Eima stood and backed away, letting the cousins replant themselves at his side to comfort him as before.

"Do we have water to spare?" asked Eima as she walked up to Gandalf.

Gandalf nodded, looking wearied. "Of course."

Eima headed over to where Bill was dozing off, meeting Aragorn there as well. He unlatched one of the canteens that hung from the pony's saddle and handed it to Eima.

"Start to flush it out as best you can. I've been trying to find some natural remedy 'round here to tend it with. Thus far I have not been successful." said Aragorn somberly, already in motion.

Eima returned to the circle of halflings with the canteen of water. Once more, Frodo and Merry made way for her, but Sam, who had finally joined the party, stayed put. He was carrying a load of cloths in his arms.

"Here, Lady Eima," he offered her one. "You can use it to dab and clean. The rest we can wrap and tie it about his foot-to keep out any nasties, if you follow me."

"Thank you, dear Samwise." said Eima, retrieving the cloth from him. She looked at Frodo and Merry thoughtfully. "You two ought to keep a hold on him while I do this. I've a feeling he will not take to it well."

The cousins sat on either side of Pippin, speaking in delicate voices and rubbing his back, all the while his eyes were stuck to Eima as she proceeded, with Sam's help, to tidy up the laceration. He could not contain the yelp that emitted from him in response to the water being poured onto and into his injured foot, or the tears now running rampant down his reddened face. Eima dribbled water and used one of the many cloths to rid the swell of blood that was beginning to congeal about the edges of the massive cut, and soon it was looking much better, which she made sure to tell the hobbits.

Not long after she'd begun this and Aragorn appeared with a bowl in hand. It contained a lump of mushed dark green contents, from which a most putrid odor rose. The Maia nearly vomited at it. Eima quickly moved aside for him, and he took her spot, holding Pippin's foot aloft whilst dipping the fingers of his free hand in the bowl. With care that rivaled Eima's, Aragorn applied the smelly concoction to the wound. It had barely made contact, and Pippin's eyes bulged out of their sockets. He gave a strangled cry, his back arching and legs contracting away from Aragorn instinctively.

"W-what are you _doing?!" _sobbed the young hobbit, kicking his short legs at the ranger.

"It's a special recipe, Pippin," explained Aragorn soothingly, snatching the ankle of the gashed foot firmly in his hand, at the same time trying to avoid being hit by the other. "It will help quell the blood, and keep it from becoming infected. Now, you must be still, Pippin. I know it stings, but it's better than getting a sickness from it, which is very possible."

"_No!" _shrieked Pippin in absolute terror, squirming against Merry and Frodo's restraints. "No, no, no, no! Please, don't, Ara-_ARRRGGGHHH!"_

The Fellowship cringed at Pippin's shrill cry of agony. Legolas and Gimli were looking around at the sky, half-expecting to see the black mass of the Crebain coming at them once again. Boromir was gritting his teeth. He felt terribly sorry for the young hobbit, but he feared that his grievance would lend aid to the enemy's spies if he did not stop. Gandalf was most fretful of this. He was upon his booted feet at once and hustling over to where the hobbits and Aragorn were gathered.

"Peregrin, please, do not be so loud!" hissed the wizard.

Pippin, who was weeping tremendously, shook his head and heaved a dramatic breath at Gandalf, green eyes shining. Aragorn was almost done in applying the medicine, all the while he murmured calming words of elven tongue to Pippin. When complete, he put the bowl down and requested for one of Sam's cloths, which the gardener readily provided. Aragorn wrapped up Pippin's foot securely with a few different cloths, then laid it back onto the grass with care.

"He won't be able to put pressure on that foot. Not at least for a day." said the ranger, wiping his hands off onto his weather-beaten jacket.

The decision was made to have Pippin hitch a ride on Bill. After Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli cleared what baggage that the pony was carrying from his back, splitting it amongst themselves, Aragorn helped Pippin up onto him. Pippin's tears had at last come to a stop, though he remained looking miserable and his face was still a light shade of red, his head hung low.

Aragorn mussed Pippin's dark red curls, offering him an encouraging smile. "How's that, Pippin?" his hand moved downward to pat the hobbit's back. "Here now, cheer up! We've got you fixed! And you've the fortune of resting up a bit. I quite envy you!"

Pippin only sniffled in response. Merry and Frodo made sure he was well adjusted and comfortable astride Bill, ensuring him that he would feel better very soon. Gandalf went to him as well, and leant in so that he was speaking directly into one of Pippin's pointed ears. The hobbit gave a weak giggle after a few seconds and Gandalf wiped his wet face dry with a handkerchief he'd borrowed from Frodo. Pippin was sitting a bit straighter now, blinking and sniffing noisily. Giving him a clasp on the back, Gandalf then turned back to the rest of the company and ordered they continue on their way.

The day did not change much throughout their course, staying sunny and warm with an easy breeze sweeping past them every so often. Towards the evening the rocky terrain finally started to disappear, giving way to more brown and barren grassland sprinkled with scrawny pine trees. It was here that the Fellowship took supper and rest. No fire was lit that night, and Legolas was given first watch. Before the sun had even thought of rising the next morning, Gandalf was waking them all. Pippin's fall had cost them precious time that they did not have, and they were to make up for it by starting earlier than usual. They ate upon their feet, a dreadfully sparse breakfast yet again. Grey clouds had rolled in from the southwest overnight, clumping together in the pale blue sky. Though they did not clear up all day long, they at least were merciful enough to keep from dropping rain on the travelers below.

"I think we ought to take a look at that foot, Peregrin." said Gandalf, when they were stopped shortly for personal business around midday.

Pippin, sitting in a patch of lush grass, raised his leg and wiggled his foot around. "It feels fine."

Aragorn touched Eima's upper back lightly. She turned to look over at him, still chewing some nuts that she'd snuck from one of the various snack bags from Rivendell.

"Would you like to do the honors?" he offered genially, motioning towards Pippin.

Eima swallowed and smiled knowingly at him. "You would grant me such a high honor? You are truly a righteous man, my lord, Aragorn!"

"That has been said often a time, I do admit." said Aragorn, fighting to hold back a grin.

"I'm sure!" said Eima fervidly.

Aragorn shook with inward laughter, nudging the woman towards the direction of Pippin. "Off you go, Milady!"

Pippin, who was sniggering behind his hand, put up his foot when Eima neared him. Eima kneeled down before him, took hold of the foot in a delicate fashion, and went to work unraveling the cloths that were neatly wound all around it. Whilst doing so, she was able to see just how much the hobbit's foot had bled from his accident. When she had reached the third layer of cloth, most of it was stained a dark brown and it reeked horribly. Eima balked, hurrying to turn her nose away from it. Pippin was giggling up a storm. The woman shot him a heated look, which only served to intensify his fit of amusement.

"Do you find my misery to be funny?" said Eima, finishing what she had started.

Pippin shook his head, though he continued to chortle.

"Then what, may I ask, is so amusing?" queried Eima irritably, trying not to expel the contents in her stomach at the stench from the foot.

Pippin shrugged, laughing outright now.

"Peregrin! Behave yourself." admonished Frodo, who had been eying his baby cousin the entire time from the sideline.

Pippin looked over at Frodo, his merry face putting on an indignant expression.

"I am!" said he defensively.

"Not when you're laughing at Eima! She is being very considerate to check that foot of yours." chided Frodo, sounding very much like a seasoned father.

"Come off it! Eima knows I only joke!" argued Pippin, who looked then at his current caregiver, a tinge of worry crossing his facial features. "Don't you, Eima? You know I don't mean anything by laughing a bit? It's just, your face looked so hilarious, I couldn't possibly help myself!"

Eima shook her head, a little less annoyed as just seconds ago. "Calm down, Pippin, I know you meant no disrespect."

Eima at last had the foot spared of all wrappings, and she was relieved to find that the wound had improved wonderfully since yesterday.

"Well?" said Pippin expectantly.

Eima smiled up at him. "I think you're going to live, Master Took." She picked up the pile of soiled cloths that she'd laid aside, her nose scrunching up at the horrid odor emitting from them. "These will have to go! Sam, have we any more clean cloths left?"

"I only have three." said Sam, unpacking them from his load.

"That will do," said Eima. "Merry, can you fetch me some water as well?"

Merry hopped to it, nodding as he went. "Certainly!"

"What? Are you really going to wash it again?!" whined Pippin.

"Of course! You gave yourself a nice injury and it needs tending to, if we are to keep you from infection. Now, hush and let me do my job, Peregrin Took."

Merry returned shortly with a canteen of water for Eima, which she took and dosed the gash with just as she had done yesterday, then dried it and wrapped it up once more with the fresh cloths from Sam. Pippin was thankfully able to keep from squirming too much this time, though Eima was not successful in shutting him up.

"Do you suppose that if we didn't clean it and it got really, really bad, and was oozing yellow stuff, we would have to cut it off?" Pippin was gabbing as she helped him up on his feet.

Eima was speechless for a moment, blinking down at him with horrified eyes.

"I-I suppose..." she said after the stunned pause.

"That would be dreadful! But, I guess I could get used to it. You know, I seen this hobbit once-I think his name was Fildred? I don't know! Well, anyway, this hobbit I seen in the market had a _wooden leg!_ And he was getting along without any trouble at all! I asked him if a dragon or troll had gotten a bite out of him, but I didn't get to hear his answer, because Mother was already pulling me away by the ear."

Eima snorted. "I imagine she was not very happy?"

"Nope!" said Pippin cheerfully, still holding on to the woman's hands for some support. "She told me I embarrassed her and that she would never take me shopping again. Of course, that only lasted about a week at most, and we were back again." the hobbit was grinning up at Eima. "My poor mother! She just can never stay mad at me for long. No matter how bad I am."

"It sounds like you have a kind-hearted mother. You are very blessed, Pippin." said Eima.

Pippin's bright grin dwindled, and he averted his green eyes. "Yes, I guess I am..."

Eima noted the change in the hobbit's countenance, of how he suddenly appeared to become... sad? She thought about what they were saying, about his mother, and she wondered then if perhaps he missed her more than he let on. He was still very young after all...

"What do you think, Pip? Ready to get back on old Bill?" asked Merry, wandering over with his thumbs hooked in his trousers' pockets.

"I think I will walk." said Pippin with confidence, starting forward with a gait unsteady and slow.

Eima kept a firm clasp of his hand in hers, even though she could feel that he wanted to go at it alone. Merry looked like he was ready to say something, but he bit his tongue. The other members of the Fellowship watched the young one with dubious faces as he made his way along with Eima.

Aragorn eyed the hobbit as he spoke low to Gandalf. "If he is to walk, our plan of making it to the Pass by dusk is surely not to happen."

Gandalf nodded in agreement, but before either he or Aragorn could act, Boromir was striding past them in the direction of said halfling. Neither Eima nor Pippin noticed him until his hands had slid under the hobbit's armpits and he was picking him up.

"Oi!" Pippin let out a startled cry.

Eima's hand was still entwined with Pippin's as Boromir stole him away from her, and she gave the man a hard questioning look, to which he returned a reassurng smile and said, "I think it would be better if you rested that foot a day more, don't you, Pippin?"

"No! I can walk just fine!" returned Pippin, attempting to wriggle out of the human's strong hold, his legs swinging back and forth. "Put me down, Boromir!"

The other hobbits approached their squawking comrade, seeing that his cheeks were quite a lovely pink hue and he was anything but happy. Merry knew his dear cousin was probably feeling slight humiliation at the fact that not only could he not walk, but also that the big folks seemed to have this infuriating notion that hobbits had no qualms of being carried about whenever it suit them. However, since Boromir hadn't the tiniest inkling of hobbits and Merry knew well enough that the man only meant to help, he refrained from berating the Gondorian. Plus, it was clear as day that Pippin should not be walking yet.

"Pippin, stop!" commanded Merry from the ground, his arms crossed. "Boromir's right. You need to stay off that foot for the rest of today, at least. We need to get a move on, and with you limping like that, we'd barely make a mile by the time the sun sets!"

Pippin craned his neck around to glower at Merry. "I'm _not _limping! I can do it! Let me _go_!"

"Peregrin! _Enough_!" snapped Frodo, his brow lowered. "You will ride Bill for the time. We cannot afford to delay this journey any further."

Boromir could feel the hobbit tween's body stiffen momentarily, then go limp, his head drooping. There was also a faint sigh from the lad, or so Boromir thought. Falling silent in compliancy to his elder cousin's order, Pippin allowed the man to set him on Bill's back once more without a word or fuss. Boromir admittedly felt sorry for the halfling, but they had little choice and no time to spare.

"It's not all bad, Master Pippin," said Sam over his shoulder sometime later, leading Bill down a long slope behind Frodo and Merry. "Enjoy the break while you have it, because this walking is wearing on the nerves, I can say. What I wouldn't give to be in your place right about now-without the hurt foot, of course!"

Pippin, whose shoulders were slumped and head hung low, rolled his eyes behind the gardener's back. He sat quiet as Sam rambled on about something to do with his Gaffer, not really invested in the story. They were always the same anyway... When two new voices rose behind him, however, his ears flicked back at attention. He knew at once it was Eima and Boromir. Pippin furtively peeked back at them past his shoulder.

"-climb up the side, to the second, even third window! I could scarcely believe him half the time." Boromir was saying, his voice not its usual grim drone, but light and even somewhat cheery. "He was always trying new things, Faramir, always off in his own world slaying firedrakes and rescuing maidens."

There followed a small bout of laughter from Eima. "He sounds like fun."

"Oh, indeed he is!"

"You miss him?" said Eima.

Boromir nodded his head. "Yes. All the time."

"Why did he not come with you to Rivendell?" inquired Eima.

"He had business to attend to." was Boromir's terse reply, clearly having no desire to delve into that particular subject area.

Eima took the hint, and redirected the topic back to their childhood antics. "Your mother must have loved having you boys."

Boromir guffawed roughly, shaking his head. "Cuts, bruises, broken bones... Oh our mother, she did not have it easy with us two, I will tell you."

"Perhaps, but I'm sure she would not have wished for it any other way." said Eima in a surprisingly kind manner that made Pippin tilt his head curiously.

Boromir gave a soft chuckle, his gaze growing distant as memories streamed throughout his mind. "No, I dare say she would not have."

They strolled beside one another in silence for a while, and Pippin thought they had given up on conversation, which was rather too bad. The young Took had been enjoying the easy talk between them; it gave him a vague feeling of being back home, where his mother and father held many a chat with friends and family about the simple doings in everyday life.

On and on they went through the day, picking up on and dropping off of various discussions. It was all in all boring and nothing worth recalling, in Pippin's honest opinion. No more rest stops were made, for Gandalf made certain to keep their pace swift in the southeast. The land eventually flattened around them into an even field of tall, brown grass, and this carried forth until the foot of the Misty Mountains, which they reached by late evening, after the sun had gone down. It was here they were to halt and rest for a bit, preparing themselves for the long, steep climb that was the Redhorn Pass.

"Well, this ought to be quite the jolly trail." voiced Gimli, in reference to the looming Caradhras above them.

Sam brought Bill to a stop, and Merry and Frodo drew to the pony's side to assist Pippin's dismount. The young hobbit swayed on his feet for half a moment once he was standing indepedently, then after shoving his cousins away, ambled over to the pile of packs and proceeded to dig through them for some scrap of sustenance. In no time at all the tween had uncovered a sack of elven wafers, which he grabbed a handful of and hurried to sit somewhere near so as to begin his secret feast.

"Here, Pippin, I think is where your ride ends." said Gandalf, seated across from the youngster.

Pippin was not paying any heed to the wizard, his mind completely fixed on the food in his hands, mowing it down as if he'd not eaten anything in over a month. Next to him was Merry, smoking the last of his weed in an unhurried fashion. Frodo, whom had gone over by Gandalf, was nibbling on some dried fruit and listening to the elder's thoughts. Sam was kept tending to Bill, speaking to the animal in gentle tones as he stroked his mane.

Eima settled down in the grass close to where Frodo and Gandalf were, her eyes roving over her companions.

Everyone, she could see, was running low on energy. Even the elf prince seemed to slow in his normal, fluid movements. With a long, tired exhale of breath, Eima slipped off her shoes to permit her feet some much needed fresh air. She set the shoes away to her right and stretched out her thin legs in the grass, wiggling her toes and arching her feet. It felt good to be off of them.

"When are we to take the Pass?" Merry ventured to ask, his pipe bobbing at the corner of his mouth.

Gandalf, who was puffing on his pipe as well, plucked it from his lips.

"Tonight." was his grim answer.

The Fellowship became still and quiet. Eima raised her head to gaze upward at the monstrous peaks, a large picture of blackness against the otherwise starry night sky. Her heart fell with the idea of crossing over it.

"Should we not wait for morning?" said Boromir, apprehension upon his tongue.

"No, we go tonight. We have wasted far too much time as is." Gandalf swiftly replied. "The more we wait, the more we pose a risk to ourselves."

Though no one was willing, the company wordlessly submitted to the wizard's order, and in an hour they were on their legs once more moving up towards Caradhras.

The ascent of the mountain began well enough for them all. The ground lifted into a soft incline that could barely be called a hill, and this strung along a solid mile before it grew and rapidly steepened under their feet. The grassland soon dissipated, yielding to dark soil littered with rocks and weeds, and this too only lasted for so long before the rocks thickened in number and the ground transformed into something that was almost impossible to traverse. Fortunately, they did not have to bear this for any great length of time, for not far before them a path lay carved out of the sea of rocks. The Fellowship took this at once, and although it was not half as taxing, the path was not a smooth one and proved to be on the rougher side, as it had been made long ago and had not been used in many a year.

Up and up they climbed the mountain, right on into the heart of night. Many miles along, the Fellowship began to notice a growing change in the air around them. With each step forward they could feel the mild temperature drop in degree, gradually turning more cool. It also was thinning, becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe.

Hours passed them by whilst they made their way up the hazardous path, trying with all their might to keep firmly on their feet. The hobbits managed spectacularly, though they were not used to such activities as climbing mountains, and Eima prayed that their remarkable endurance stayed as it were. She herself was short of breath and her joints rigid with the cold and fatigue. She peered on to the head of the line where Gandalf strode steadily, secretly marvelling at his strength.

Soon they came to be at such a great height that Eima seen snow for the first time in her embodied life. The first flurry landed on her nose, the second on her cheek, the third on her brow, and they brought a terrible chill to her flesh that the Maia did not appreciate. The dainty flurries did not let up, but instead, just like with the chill air, intensified drastically. The ground was covered now in powdery white, causing the already uneven Pass to be dangerously slick.

And it only worsened.

Twice now Bill had lost his legging, his hooves not a good match for the wet stones that formed the trail across the mountain. Pippin, who had been doing relatively well most of the way, stumbled on a loosened rock, and only caught himself in time before smashing his face into the ground. Before the other hobbits could react, Boromir had bent and lifted the young hobbit from the snow, setting him back on his furry feet.

The flurries thankfully stopped after a while; however, the snow on the mountain rose about their feet at a fixed rate. Eventually the blanket had gotten so tall that it was at the knees of the larger members, which left the hobbits to struggle through a drift that was near to their bellies. Around this time the party had at very long last come atop a ridge of Caradhras, and the Pass, though largely hidden by the snow, was flat and no longer at a sharp incline like it had been for the majority of the climb.

In the east the faint glow of the rising sun could be seen. They had gone through the whole night without rest, and it was starting to show. Gandalf was aware of this, seeing that everyone except Legolas was asleep on their legs. Though it was an inconvenient place, the wizard gave order to cease, and the Fellowship did so instantly. Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Eima set to clearing the area as best they could, so that they could sit somewhat comfortably amid the snow. They had the hobbits gather in the center, while they all sat in a close circle around them, hoping to form some heat for each other. Bill remained standing on the western side of the group, his head dropped between his shoulders, appearing as if he were attempting to do his part by blocking what wind that he could from his beloved friends. Gandalf came to join the assembly as well, lying his staff across his lap, tucking his scarf tight.

One by one the hobbits drifted off to sleep, leaning against and overlapping one another. The big folk were quick to follow suit. Gandalf's head hung to his chest, his breathing marked by mild snoring. Aragorn nodded into slumber in the same fashion, as Boromir rolled onto his side and curled up slightly. Eima, who could not get familiar with this horrid climate no matter how hard she tried, found that closing her eyes was not so easy for her as the rest. She turned her head to look at Legolas, who was the only other person not dreaming momentarily. The elf prince was actually watching the sunrise, his sleek, flaxen mane waving in the breeze. Eima studied him, impressed by his elvish stamina. She pondered then on what made him want to leave his people, to go and possibly endanger his immortality on this quest?

"You should try and get some rest, Lady Eima." spoke Legolas then, his voice rather far away in sound. "Gandalf will have us flying again soon enough."

The white-haired woman blinked at the elf, not really sure of what to say. In the end, she took his advice and hunkered down in the middle of Aragorn and Boromir, shutting her eyes and forcing herself to sleep. It was like she had only done this, when she felt a hand on her, pulling her from the furthermost recesses of her mind.

"I'm sorry, Eima, but Gandalf says we must be moving on." it was Merry, his small frame shuddering and hunched over her.

Eima nodded her head at him and stood up from the frozen ground, stretching her arms and legs, for they had become almost of ice. She gazed down at Merry and grazed the side of his face with her fingertips, earning a weak smile from the hobbit. She lifted her line of sight from his round face and squinted out at the eastern sky, her eyes watering; the sun was blinding now atop the Pass, its firey beams reflecting off of the fresh, glittering snow. In the moments succeeding, the Fellowship had noiselessly resumed the insidious trek over the head of Caradhras, unsmiling and worn to the core.

The day promised ill when not even a mile going forward the winds on the mountain turned savage on the company. They were bombarded by an icy gust that clawed at their faces and ripped at their cloths, determined to push them back the way they had come. It did not stop either, only strengthened. Clouds, which had been steadily rolling in around them, now hid the clear blue skies from view and blocked the sun and whatever frail warmth it provided. These clouds had brought with them a storm. A blizzard to be exact. The snow burst forth unto the mountain in a fierce form, stealing their eyesight and snatching their breath. It took a matter of seconds for it to collect on their heads, in their beards, on their eyebrows and upon their raiments. What flesh was open to the elements was at a high stake of frost bite, so the Fellowship did what they could to stay hidden beneath their cloaks and hoods.

The storm stuck with them throughout the subsequent six miles along the Pass, building itself into a most hideous monster all the while. Eima grit her teeth and pushed onwards, not dissuaded, but compelled to finish the path laid out before them. She knew well that this was no ordinary event of the weather of the world. Just as the heavy rains of nights past, there was something else at work here. Something dark and hostile. Something did not want them to cross this mountain.

The biting cold was currently gnawing straight through her, right through the thick elven attire that clothed her, right down to the very marrow of her bones. It was relentless and Eima felt herself become ever more wearisome as they went on plowing forward through the up-to-the-waist snow that covered the Pass. But her own depleting energy could not contend with the worry that dominated her mind at the present time in regards to the hobbits. Though she had wished to carry one herself, both Aragorn and Boromir denied her of this, taking on the chore themselves. Two hobbits to each man. Eima accepted the decision, though she would not be told to stay any further than a foot from the halflings, staking her place between the two men so as to be near to the little ones. As hardy of creatures they have so far been, Eima could see now that this bitter cold was taking a harsh toll on them. She recalled Frodo telling her of the snow in their land, the Shire, how the children would play in it, how it was always a happy thing to see. She could not imagine it being as cruel as this was.

They were making their way with caution about the Pass that had turned without warning into a narrow edge that jutted out from the mountain face no more than five feet and had a deadly drop if one were to get too close to side. The large drifts of snow made it that much harder to walk it safely, adding to that the squall they were battling as they pressed on.

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas suddenly announced from up ahead of the line.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouted into the gusts of wind.

The Fellowship ceased walking all at once, looking around, dread filling their hearts as the terrible chanting words of Saruman echoed through the thin, frigid air.

A sickening realization hit Aragorn then and he exclaimed to the group. "He's trying to bring down the mountain!"

Gandalf turned to look back at the ranger. He held Aragorn's eye for a fleeting moment before looking away.

"_Gandalf!" _Aragorn yelled with urgency over the storm. "We _must_ turn back!"

"No!" the grey wizard returned stubbornly, bewildering the other members of the Fellowship.

He faced outward from the mountain's pass, raised his wooden staff high, peculiar words passing over his lips that only Eima could comprehend; but, they appeared to be muffled, almost dwarfed by the howling winds of Saruman's wicked spell. As if in retaliation, the clouds overhead suddenly became black as coal, swirling ominously, and the gale worsened, then from out of the sky shot a bolt of lightening. It struck the side of the mountain high above their heads, shaking them thoroughly and causing one of the hobbits to cry out in fear. Not a moment later and there came a rumbling, rushing sound and all of the company looked up. Before anyone could react properly, the avalanche was upon them, burying the party quite efficiently within a matter of seconds.

The breath was swiped from their lungs and it may as well have been a ton of stones dropping on their heads, for the snow was so thick and heavy. There was shared panic among them in the next moments, as each member strove to find a way out of their freezing entrapment to the surface for air. Among the first to break free from the snow bank was Legolas, followed shortly by Gandalf, then one after another the others popped up as well. Eima, who had been rather physically shocked by the event, had required a helping hand from Boromir.

"Are you alright, Lady Eima?" he asked once he had pulled her out and brushed her off.

Eima nodded, a bit dazed. She directed her attention to the two small beings before her that were huddled close to the Gondorian captain, their curls dressed in snow, faces screwed up with cold, eyes shut against the evil winds. Her heart began to sink and she glanced up just in time to meet Boromir's gaze. The same concern that gripped her was reflected in his eyes. There was an understanding between them and that was these hobbits could not survive this blizzard for very much longer.

"We _must_ get off the mountain!" voiced Boromir to the company in a tone that struck demand. "Make for the Gap of Rohan, and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn immediately rebutted.

"We cannot pass over a mountain! Let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria." the husky voice of Gimli rose above the whistling wind then and everyone fell silent.

Eima seen that Pippin was looking particularly frightening, with his head bobbing and skin a light shade of blue now. Boromir clenched his teeth together and hurried to rub the hobbits briskly with his large human hands, hoping to work up some heat within their tiny bodies. Eima drew closer to them, in the hopes of shielding more of the storm and providing extra heat from her own body. None of this was helping much and Pippin started to become limp, earning a gasp from Eima and a growl from Boromir. They were wasting time arguing over where to go. They just needed to get off this mountain right away and it didn't matter how. He could hear Gandalf leave the decision for Frodo and this only infuriated him more.

"We cannot stay here!" he hollered at the wizard, holding tight to Merry and Pippin. "This will _surely_ be the death of the hobbits!"

Eima whole-heartedly agreed. "He is right, Gandalf! We must leave this place! Time is running out for these little ones as we speak!"

"Frodo?" said Gandalf with stress, taking heed to his sister's words.

The Fellowship waited anxiously for the ringbearer's final choice, hoping against hope it would be the right one.

At long last, or so it seemed to them whilst fighting the roaring gusts of mountain winds, Frodo spoke.

"We will go through the mines."

Something about this brought instant discomfort to Eima and she felt her brother did as well, but he did not reprove Frodo's ultimatum. He only sighed inwardly and said-

"So be it."

* * *

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the LONG wait, you guys, but you know how life is, it always wants to butt in where it's not wanted. So anywho, hope you all enjoyed the latest installment! That is, if anyone is still reading this... Oh well, I take pleasure in writing it either way. I can't promise when I will update again, as you folks have probably guessed by the lengthy period between chapters 5 and 6, but don't forget, I did state at the beginning of this tale that I was going to take time in processing it, so patience is imperative here.

Also, I do not think I mentioned it before now, but this story is not following a straight line of neither the books nor the movies; rather a collaboration of the two, with the addition of a few tweaks from my own imagination. Just an FYI, in case any of you were wondering.

Have a blessed day/night!


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